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presented  to  the 
UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
SAN  DIEGO 

by 

Mrs,  Griff ing  Bancroft 


'"■Q   .'216   K514    1879 
UMi','7.1,.9'..f*K!fP«NlA     SAN    DItGO 


fin  ill*  11  ■Til.  iM  ,i'r™  LfitbU 
,  iilliiiillli 

3   1822  01112  9814 


Pa, 


'Paris  is  beautiful,   is  it  not?"    Page  6. 


Kings  in  Exile  ^^  ^  ^  ^  ^  ^ 

From  the  French  of  ^  ^  ^  ^  ^  1?  ^ 

^  ^  ^  ^  ^  '&^  Alphonse  Daudet 

By  Virginia  Champlin    '^  ^  ^  "^  ^  ^ 


Chicago  and  New  York  ♦  ♦  ♦ 
Rand,  McNally  &  Company 


Copyright,  iS/g,  by  Lee  &  Shepard. 
All  Rights  Reserved. 


To 

Mr.  George  Parsons  Lathrop, 

whose  appreciation  of  foreign  authors  has  brought 

them  many  admirers, 

this  translation  is  dedicated, 

in  memory  of  enjoyment  afforded  by  his  prose 

and  poetical  writings,  and  as  a  slight 

recognition  of  his  kindness  and 

literary  encouragement. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    I. 

PAGE 

FiKST  Day i 


CHAPTER    II. 
A  Royalist 26 

CHAPTER    III. 
The  Court  at  Saint  Mande 55 

CHAPTER    IV. 
The  King  enjoys  himself 76 

CHAPTER   V. 
J.  Tom  Levis,  Agent  for  Foreigners      .        .        .        .108 

CHAPTER   VI. 
The  Bohemia  of  Exile 135 

CHAPTER   VII. 
Joys  of  the  People 160 

CHAPTER   VIII. 
The  Great  ScHKiMt 176 


VI  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    IX. 

PAGE 

At  the  Academy 202 

CHAPTER   X. 
A  Home  Scene 225 

CHAPTER   XI. 
Military  Preparations 239 

CHAPTER   XII. 
The  Night-Train 265 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
A  Prisoner 290 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

A    DfeNoOMENT .      294 

CHAPTER   XV. 
The  Little  King 309 

CHAPTER   XVI. 
The  Darkened  Room 319 

CHAPTER   XVII. 
Fides,  Spes 333 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 
The  Extinction  of  a  Race 348 


KINGS    IN    EXILE. 


CHAPTER   I. 

FIRST  DAY. 

FRtoERiQUE,  who  was  feverish  and  exhausted,  had  been 
sleeping  since  morning,  and  dreaming  of  her  troubles  as  a 
dethroned  and  exiled  queen,  and  was  living  again  amid 
the  tumult  and  anguish  of  a  two-months'  siege.  Her 
sleep  was  disturbed  by  bloody  visions  of  war,  and  broken 
by  sobs,  shudders,  and  nervous  tremors,  from  which  she 
awoke  with  a  start  of  fear. 

"Zara  !  where  is  Zara?"  she  cried. 

One  of  her  waiting-women  approached  the  bed,  and 
gently  quieted  her :  H.  R.  H.  the  Count  of  Zara  was 
sleeping  quietly  in  his  room ;  Madame  Eleonora  was  with 
him. 

"And  the  king?" 

"  He  went  out  at  noon  in  one  of  the  hotel  carriages." 

"Alone?" 

"  No  :  his  Majesty  took  the  councillor  Boscovich  with 
him." 

The  servant's  Dalmatian  patois,  which  was  hard  and 
resonant  as  the   sound  of  waves   rolling   pebble-stones. 


2  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

caused  the  queen's  terrors  to  vanish ;  and  the  quiet  hotel 
room,  of  which  she  had  merely  caught  a  glimpse  on  arriv- 
ing at  daybreak,  gradually  impressed  her  with  its  comfort- 
ing commonplaceness  and  luxurious  furniture,  its  bright 
draperies,  tall  mirrors,  and  soft,  white  woollen  carpet,  on 
which  fell,  through  the  window-blinds,  shadows  from  the 
rapid,  noiseless  flight  of  swallows,  interspersed  with  occa- 
sional moths. 

"  Five  o'clock  already  !  Come,  Petscha,  dress  my  hair 
quickly  !     I  am  ashamed  at  having  slept  so  long." 

It  was  five  o'clock,  and  the  most  charming  day  with 
which  the  summer  of  1872  had  yet  delighted  the  Par- 
isians. 

When  the  queen  stepped  out  on  the  long  balcony  of 
the  Hotel  des  Pyramides,  which  had  fifteen  windows 
along  the  front,  shaded  by  pink  awnings,  and  facing  the 
most  beautiful  part  of  the  Rue  de  Rivoli,  she  gazed 
around  her  in  wonder  and  admiration.  Below,  on  the 
broad  road,  an  unbroken  file  of  carriages,  mingling  the 
noise  of  their  wheels  with  the  light  sprinkling  of  the  water- 
ing-carts, swept  like  the  wind  down  towards  the  Bois  in  a 
confused  dazzle  of  glittering  harnesses  and  bright  toilets. 

Then,  from  the  crowd  hurrying  in  at  the  gilded  gates  of 
the  Tuileries,  the  charmed  gaze  of  the  queen  wandered  to 
the  bright  mass  of  white  dresses,  fair  hair,  gay  silks,  toy- 
balloons,  and  the  pleasure-seekers  and  children  in  holiday 
attire  who  are  to  be  seen  in  the  great  Parisian  garden  on 
sunny  days  ;  and  it  finally  rested  with  delight  on  a  dome 
of  verdure,  an  immense  roof  of  dense  foliage,  which,  as 
seen  from  above,  was  formed  by  chestnut-trees,  under 
whose  shade  a  military  band  was  playing,  adding  its 
music  to  the  merry  babel  of  children's  voices. 

The  bitter  heartache  of  the  exiled  queen  was  gradually 


FIRST  DAY.  3 

soothed  by  the  sight  of  the  joy  around  her.  A  pleasant 
sense  of  warmth  enveloped  her  all  around  like  a  clinging, 
supple,  silken  net.  Her  cheeks,  faded  by  watching  and 
privations,  now  wore  a  healthy  rose-tint ;  and  she  ex- 
claimed, "Ah,  my  God,  how  happy  one  is  here  !  " 

The  most  unfortunate  sometimes  have  these  sudden 
and  unconscious  moments  of  delight ;  and  it  does  not 
come  from  human  beings,  but  from  the  limitless  elo- 
quence of  inanimate  objects. 

To  this  dethroned  queen,  —  cast  into  exile  with  her  hus- 
band and  child  by  one  of  those  revolutions  of  the  people 
which  make  one  think  of  earthquakes,  thunder  and  light- 
ning, and  volcanic  eruptions,  —  to  this  woman  whose  low, 
haughty  brow  still  bore  the  mark  where  had  rested  one  of 
the  finest  crowns  in  Europe,  words  could  not  have  brought 
consolation ;  and  here  joyous  nature,  blooming  in  re- 
newed life  in  this  marvellous  summer  of  Paris  (which  has 
an  atmosphere  between  that  of  a  hot-house  and  the  mild 
coolness  of  river  countries),  spoke  to  her  of  hope,  resto- 
ration, and  peace. 

But,  while  relaxing  the  tension  of  her  nerves  and 
drinking  in  the  fertile  scene,  the  exile  all  at  once  shud- 
ders. Yonder,  at  her  left,  near  the  entrance  to  the  gar- 
den, stands  a  spectral  monument  of  burned  walls,  with 
reddened  columns  and  a  crumbling  roof,  and  whose  win- 
dows are  holes  against  a  blue  space,  the  open  front  having 
a  background  of  ruins  ;  and  at  the  end,  looking  upon  the 
Seine,  a  pavilion  almost  entire,  gilded  by  the  flame  which 
has  blackened  the  iron  of  its  balconies.  It  was  all  that  was 
left  of  the  palace  of  the  Tuileries. 

The  sight  of  it  cost  the  queen  deep  emotion  ;  and  she 
felt  stunned,  as  if  her  heart  had  fallen  down  on  those  rocks. 
Ten  years,  —  it  was  not  ten  years  since  then  !     Oh,  how 


4  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

sad  was  chance  !  and  how  prophetic  it  seemed  to  her  to 
have  taken  up  her  abode  opposite  these  ruins  ! 

In  the  spring  of  1864  she  hved  there  with  her  husband. 
A  bride  of  three  months,  the  Countess  of  Zara  displayed 
in  the  allied  courts  her  happiness  as  a  wife  and  an  heredi- 
tary princess.     Every  one  loved  and  welcomed  her. 

In  the  Tuileries  particularly  there  were  balls  and  fetes 
without  number.  She  beheld  them  again  behind  those 
crumbled  walls,  and  saw  once  more  the  vast  and  brilliant 
galleries  dazzling  with  light  and  jewels,  and  the  court- 
dresses  trailing  down  the  grand  staircases  between  a 
double  row  of  glittering  cuirasses  ;  and  the  music  from  the 
invisible  band,  which  reached  her  now  and  then  from  the 
garden,  seemed  to  her  the  band  of  Valdteufel  in  the  Hall 
of  the  Marshals.  Was  it  not  to  this  lively  stirring  air  that 
she  had  danced  with  their  cousin  Maximilian  a  week 
before  his  departure  for  Mexico  ?  Yes  :  it  was  that  very 
air,  —  a  quadrille  formed  by  emperors  and  kings,  queens 
and  empresses,  whose  august  faces,  and  the  voluptuous 
measures  of  the  dance,  were  brought  before  her  by  this 
motif  from  "  La  Belle  H^lene  :  "  Max,  thoughtful,  and 
biting  his  blond  beard ;  Carlotta  opposite  him,  near  Na- 
poleon, radiant  and  transfigured  by  the  joy  of  being  an 
empress.  Where  were  now  the  dancers  in  that  beautiful 
quadrille?  All  dead,  exiled,  or  mad.  Mourning  upon 
mourning ;  disaster  after  disaster  !  God,  then,  was  no 
longer  on  the  side  of  kings.  Then  she  remembered  all 
that  she  had  suffered  since  the  death  of  the  old  King 
Leopold  had  placed  on  her  brow  the  double  crown  of 
Illyria  and  Dalmatia.  Her  daughter,  her  first-bom,  had 
been  carried  off,  in  the  midst  of  the  sacred  festivals,  by 
one  of  those  strange  and  obscure  maladies  which  cause 
the  extinction  of  a  family,  and  thereby  end  a  race ;  so 


FIRST  DA  V.  5 

that  the  candles  around  the  dead  mingled  their  light  with 
the  illuminations  of  the  city,  and  on  the  day  of  the  burial 
at  L'Eglise  du  Dome  there  had  not  been  time  to  remove 
the  flags.  Together  with  these  great  griefs,  and  the 
anxiety  which  her  son's  delicate  health  constantly  caused 
her,  she  had  other  sorrows  known  only  to  herself;  for 
her  woman's  pride  made  her  conceal  them  in  the  most 
secret  corner  of  her  heart.  Alas  !  the  heart  of  the  people 
is  no  more  faithful  than  that  of  kings. 

One  day  —  no  one  knew  why  —  this  Illyria,  which  had 
given  them  so  msiny/e/es,  became  disaffected  towards  her 
sovereigns.  Misunderstandings  arose,  followed  by  obsti- 
nacy, defiance,  and  finally  hatred,  —  that  horrible  hatred 
of  a  whole  country  which  is  felt  in  the  air  and  in  the  silence 
of  the  streets,  and  is  manifested  by  ironical  looks  and  the 
frowns  of  bent  brows,  which  made  the  queen  afraid  to 
show  herself  at  a  window,  and  obliged  her  to  shrink  into 
the  comer  of  her  carriage  during  her  short  rides. 

Oh,  those  cries  of  death  beneath  the  terraces  of  her 
chdteau  at  Laybach  !  As  she  looked  at  the  great  palace 
of  the  kings  of  France,  she  fancied  she  heard  them  again. 
She  saw  once  more  the  last  meeting  of  the  council,  and  the 
ministers,  pale  and  mad  with  fear,  imploring  the  king  to 
abdicate.  Then  she  recalled  their  flight  in  peasants'  garb 
at  night  across  the  mountains ;  the  villages  in  rebellion ; 
the  inhabitants  shouting,  as  intoxicated  with  liberty  as 
were  those  in  the  cities ;  and  bonfires  everywhere  on  the 
mountain-tops.  And  she  also  remembered  the  tears  of 
gratitude  she  shed  amid  all  this  woe  on  finding  in  a  cabin 
milk  for  her  son's  supper ;  finally  the  sudden  resolution 
with  which  she  inspired  the  king  to  shut  himself  up  in 
Ragusa,  which  was  still  faithful,  and  the  two  months  of 
privation  and  suffering  passed  in  the  besieged  city  with  t!ie 


6  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

royal  child  ill  and  almost  dying  of  hunger ;  the  shame  of 
the  final  surrender  ;  the  gloomy  embarking  in  the  midst  of 
a  silent,  weary  crowd  ;  and  the  French  ship  carrying  them 
to  other  miseries,  —  to  cold  lands  and  the  unknown  trials 
of  exile, — while  behind  them  the  new  flag  of  the  Illyrian 
Republic  floated  victorious  over  the  crumbling  walls  of  the 
royal  chateau.     Of  all  this  did  the  Tuileries  remind  her. 

"Paris  is  beautiful,  is  it  not?"  suddenly  said  a  voice 
near  her  that  was  youthful  and  joyous,  notwithstanding  its 
nasal  tone. 

It  was  the  king,  who  had  just  appeared  on  the  balcony 
holding  the  little  prince  in  his  arms,  and  showing  him  the 
wide  expanse  of  verdure,  roofs,  and  cupolas,  and  the 
people  moving  through  the  streets  in  the  beautiful  light 
of  the  closing  day. 

"  Oh,  yes,  very  beautiful !  "  said  the  child,  a  poor  Uttle 
fellow  of  five  or  six  years,  with  sharp,  marked  features,  and 
very  light  hair,  which  had  been  cut  short  since  his  sick- 
ness ;  and  who  looked  around  him  with  an  amiable  but 
weak  smile,  astonished  at  no  longer  hearing  the  cannon 
of  the  siege,  and  feeling  enlivened  by  the  cheerful  scene 
around.  For  him  exile  opened  happily.  Neither  did 
the  king  seem  very  sad  :  his  two  hours'  ride  had  given 
him  a  bright,  healthful  look,  which  formed  a  strong  con- 
trast to  the  queen's  sorrowful  countenance.  They  belonged 
to  two  absolutely  distinct  types  :  he  was  slender  and  frail, 
with  a  dull  complexion,  black,  curly  hair,  and  a  light 
mustache,  which  he  continually  twirled  with  a  pale  and 
too  pliant  hand ;  and  he  had  handsome  eyes,  whose  ex- 
pression was  rather  troubled,  irresolute,  and  childlike, 
which,  although  he  was  over  thirty,  made  one  say  on 
seeing  him,  "  How  young  he  is  !  " 

The  queen,  on  the  contrary,  was  a  robust  Dalmatian, 


FIRST  DA  Y.  7 

with  a  serious  air  and  sparing  in  gestures ;  and  was  the 
real  man  of  the  two,  in  spite  of  the  brilliant  delicacy  of 
her  complexion  and  her  superb  hair  of  Venetian  blond, 
in  which  the  East  seemed  to  have  mingled  red  and  tawny 
tints. 

Christian  appeared  constrained  in  her  presence,  and 
somewhat  wearied,  like  a  husband  who  has  received  too 
much  devotion  and  sacrifice.  He  asked  in  gentle  tones 
if  she  had  slept  well,  and  how  she  felt  after  her  journey ; 
and  she  answered  in  a  manner  which  she  endeavored  to 
make  kind,  but  which  was  full  of  condescension,  though 
in  reality  she  was  thinking  only  of  her  son,  whose  nose 
and  cheeks  she  touched,  and  whose  every  movement  she 
watched  with  the  anxiety  of  a  mother. 

"  He  is  much  better  here  than  he  has  been,"  said 
Christian  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Yes  :  color  is  coming  back  to  his  face,"  she  answered 
in  the  same  familiar  tone,  which  they  only  used  when 
speaking  of  the  child,  who,  smiling  fi-om  one  to  the  other, 
brought  their  foreheads  together  in  his  pretty  caresses, 
as  if  he  understood  that  his  two  little  arms  formed  the 
only  true  link  between  their  opposite  natures. 

Below,  on  the  sidewalk,  some  curious  people  who  had 
heard  of  the  arrival  of  the  sovereigns,  stopped  for  a 
moment,  and  were  looking  up  at  this  king  and  queen 
from  Illyria,  whose  heroic  defence  in  Ragusa  had  made 
them  celebrated,  and  whose  portraits  appeared  on  the 
first  page  of  the  illustrated  journals.  Soon,  as  it  happens 
when  one  person  stops  and  looks  at  a  pigeon  on  the  edge 
of  a  roof,  or  at  an  escaped  parrot,  idlers  increased  in 
number,  and  gazed  up  in  the  air,  not  knowing  what  was 
to  be  seen.  A  crowd  looked  towards  the  young  couple, 
who  were  in  travellin/?  costume,  with  the  child's  fair  head 


8  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

above  them  as  if  held  high  by  the  hope  of  the  conquered, 
and  the  joy  which  they  felt  at  still  keeping  him  alive  after 
such  a  frightful  tempest. 

"  Are  you  coming,  Fr^d^rique?"  asked  the  king,  who 
was  annoyed  at  the  attention  they  attracted. 

But  the  queen,  who  was  accustomed  to  brave  the  an- 
tipathy of  crowds,  held  up  her  head  haughtily,  and 
answered,  — 

"  Why  should  we  leave  ?  We  are  very  comfortable  on 
this  balcony." 

"  Because  —  I  forgot  —  Rosen  is  here  with  his  son  and 
daughter-in-law.     He  wishes  to  see  you." 

At  the  name  of  Rosen,  which  recalled  many  kind  and 
loyal  services,  the  queen's  eyes  brightened. 

"  My  worthy  duke  !  I  was  expecting  him,"  she  said. 
And  as  she  cast  a  haughty  look  into  the  street  before 
re-entering,  a  man  opposite  sprang  upon  the  lower  part  of 
the  fence  around  the  Tuileries,  and  stood  above  the  heads 
of  the  crowd.  Some  one  had  done  the  same  at  Laybach 
when  their  window  was  fired  at ;  and  Fr^d^rique  had  a 
vague  fear  of  a  similar  attack,  and  drew  back.  A  high 
forehead,  locks  scattered  by  the  wind,  with  the  sun  shin- 
ing on  them,  as,  with  uplifted  hat,  a  calm,  strong  voice 
shouted  above  the  noise  in  the  street,  "  Long  live  the 
king  !  "  was  all  that  she  saw  of  the  unknown  friend  who 
dared  in  the  heart  of  republican  Paris,  before  the  crum- 
bled walls  of  the  Tuileries,  to  greet  with  a  welcome  sove- 
reigns who  had  lost  their  crown. 

This  kindly  salutation,  which  she  had  so  long  been 
deprived  of,  had  the  same  effect  on  the  queen  as  would 
a  bright  fire  after  a  long  walk  in  the  cold.  It  warmed 
her  to  the  very  heart,  and  the  sight  of  old  Rosen  com- 
pleted the  beneficial  re-action. 


FTRST  DA  Y.  9 

General  the  Duke  de  Rosen,  the  former  chief  of  the 
military  service,  had  been  away  from  Illyria  three  years, 
—  ever  since  the  king  had  removed  him  from  his  post 
of  confidence  to  give  it  to  a  Liberal,  thus  favoring  new 
ideas  to  the  detriment  of  what  was  then  called  at 
Laybach  the  queen's  party.  Certainly  he  might  well  be 
angry  with  Christian,  who  had  coldly  sacrificed  him,  and 
let  him  depart  without  a  word  of  regret  or  farewell,  —  he, 
the  conqueror  at  Mostar  and  Livno,  and  the  hero  of  the 
great  Montenegrin  wars. 

After  having  sold  castles,  lands,  and  all,  and  given  his 
departure  the  effect  of  a  strong  protestation,  the  old  gen- 
eral settled  at  Paris,  married  his  son  there,  and,  during 
three  long  years  of  vain  waiting,  felt  his  anger  at  royal 
ingratitude  increase  with  the  sorrows  of  exile  and  the 
melancholy  of  an  unoccupied  life.  And  yet,  at  the  first 
news  of  the  arrival  of  his  sovereigns,  he  hastened  to 
them,  and  now  was  standing  erect  in  the  middle  of  the 
salon,  his  tall  figure  reaching  the  chandelier.  He  was 
waiting  with  so  much  emotion  for  the  favor  of  a  welcome, 
that  one  could  see  his  long  pandour  limbs  tremble,  and 
the  quick  breathing  of  his  broad  chest  under  the  cross 
of  the  Legion  of  Honor  on  his  tight-fitting  blue  frock-coat 
cut  hke  that  of  an  officer.  His  face  alone  —  resembling  a 
sparrow-hawk's,  with  eyes  of  steel,  a  nose  like  the  beak  of 
a  hawk,  a  few  bristling  white  hairs,  and  a  thousand  little 
wrinkles  on  its  weather-beaten  skin  —  wore  an  impassive 
look. 

The  king,  who  did  not  like  scenes,  and  who  was  rather 
embarrassed  by  this  interview,  assumed  a  lively  tone  of 
cordial  fellowship,  saying,  as  he  approached  and  held  out 
his  hands,  — 

"Well,  General,  you  were  right.  I  held  too  loose  a 
rein.     I  was  thrown,  and  am  stiff  from  the  fall." 


lO  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

Then,  seeing  that  his  old  follower  was  bending  his 
knee,  he  nobly  raised  him,  and  held  him  to  his  bosom  in 
a  close  embrace.  No  one  could  prevent  the  duke  from 
kneeling  to  his  queen,  who  felt  strangely  moved  as  the 
old  mustache  touched  her  hand  with  a  respectful,  pas- 
sionate caress. 

"Ah,  my  poor  Rosen  !  my  poor  Rosen  ! "  she  mur- 
mured. And  she  slowly  closed  her  eyes,  that  no  one 
might  see  her  tears ;  but  all  those  she  had  shed  for  years 
had  left  their  trace  on  the  delicate  smoothness  of  her  eye- 
lids from  the  hours  of  watching,  anxiety,  and  the  wounds 
which  women  think  they  hide  in  the  depth  of  their  being, 
but  which  show  on  the  surface  as  the  least  agitation 
leaves  visible  ripples  on  the  water.  For  a  second  her 
beautiful  face,  with  its  pure  lines,  wore  a  sad,  weary 
expression,  which  did  not  escape  the  old  soldier. 

"  How  she  has  suffered  !  "  he  thought,  as  he  looked  at 
her ;  and,  to  conceal  his  emotion,  he  rose  quickly,  turned 
to  his  son  and  daughter-in-law,  who  were  at  the  other  end 
of  the  room,  and  with  the  same  stem  manner  in  which  he 
shouted  through  the  streets  of  Laybach,  "  Draw  sabres  ! 
charge  the  mob  ! "  he  called,  "  Colette,  Herbert,  come 
and  salute  your  queen  !  " 

Prince  Herbert  de  Rosen  —  who  was  almost  as  tall  as 
his  father,  with  jaws  resembling  those  of  a  horse,  and  in- 
nocent, babyish  cheeks  —  obeyed  the  summons,  followed 
by  his  young  wife.  He  walked  with  difficulty,  leaning  on 
a  cane,  having  eight  months  previous  broken  his  leg  and 
crushed  several  ribs  at  the  Chantilly  races ;  and  the  gen- 
eral did  not  fail  to  remark,  that  had  it  not  been  for  that 
accident,  which  placed  his  son's  life  in  danger,  both 
would  have  been  found  behind  the  defences  of  Ragusa. 

"  I  should  have  gone  with  you,  father,"  interrupted  the 


FIRST  DAY.  II 

princess  in  a  heroic  tone,  which  did  not  harmonize  in  the 
least  with  her  name  —  "  Colette  "  —  and  her  little  kitten- 
like face,  which  looked  so  spirituelle  and  bright  under  her 
fluffy,  light  curls. 

The  queen  could  not  help  smiling,  and  held  out  her 
hand  cordially ;  while  Christian  twirled  his  mustache,  and 
with  eager  curiosity  watched  the  little  Parisian,  —  the 
pretty,  fluttering  bird  of  fashion,  with  trailing,  radiant 
plumage,  a  mass  of  overskirts  and  flounces,  and  whose 
showy  prettiness  was  in  strong  contrast  with  the  noble 
features  and  majestic  type  of  lUyria. 

"  Where  did  that  devil  of  a  Herbert  get  such  a  jew- 
el?" he  said  to  himself,  envying  the  playmate  of  his 
childhood,  —  that  tall  booby  with  goggle  eyes,  and  hair 
parted  and  plastered  in  Russian  fashion  on  a  low,  narrow 
forehead.  Then  it  occurred  to  him,  that,  if  this  type  of 
woman  was  rare  in  Illyria,  it  was  seen  every^vhere  in  the 
streets  of  Paris  ;  and  this  thought  made  exile  at  last  seem 
endurable.  Besides  it  could  not  last  long ;  for  the  lUyr- 
ians  would  soon  tire  of  their  republic.  He  would  be 
away  from  their  country  only  two  or  three  months  on  a 
royal  vacation,  which  he  must  spend  as  gayly  as  possible. 

"  Do  you  know.  General,"  he  said,  laughing,  "  some 
one  has  already  urged  me  to  buy  a  house  ?  It  was  an 
Englishman,  who  called  on  me  this  morning,  and  offered 
me  a  magnificent  hotel,  carpeted,  and  furnished  with 
linen,  silver,  china,  and  servants ;  and  there  were  also 
horses  in  the  stable,  and  carriages  in  the  coach-house, 
and  all  to  be  put  in  my  possession  in  forty-eight  hours, 
and  chosen  from  whatever  locality  might  please  me 
best." 

"  I  am  acquainted  with  your  Englishman,  your  High- 
ness :  it  is  Tom  Levis,  the  agent  for  foreigners." 


12  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

"  Yes  :  it  seems  to  me  it  was  some  such  name.  Have 
you  ever  had  business-dealings  with  him?  " 

"  Oh,  all  the  strangers  who  come  to  Paris  receive  a  call 
from  Tom  in  his  cab  !  But  I  hope,  for  your  Majesty's 
sake,  that  your  acquaintance  with  him  will  not  go  any 
farther." 

The  particular  attention  with  which  Prince  Herbert, 
as  soon  as  Tom  Levis's  name  was  mentioned,  began  to 
look  at  the  ribbon  of  his  shoes,  which  were  open,  disclos- 
ing his  silk  stockings,  and  the  furtive  glance  which  the 
princess  gave  her  husband,  made  it  plain  to  Christian, 
that,  if  he  needed  information  about  the  illustrious  agent 
in  Rue  Royale,  these  young  persons  could  furnish  it. 

But  how  could  Levis's  agency  be  of  use  to  him? 
He  desired  neither  house  nor  carriage,  and  expected  to 
pass  the  few  months  of  his  stay  in  Paris  in  a  hotel. 

"Is  not  that  your  opinion,  Fr^derique?" 

"  Oh,  certainly  !  it  is  much  the  wisest,"  answered  the 
queen,  who  at  heart,  however,  did  not  share  her  hus- 
band's illusions,  nor  his  taste  for  a  temporary  establish- 
ment. 

Papa  Rosen  ventured  a  few  remarks  in  his  turn. 
Hotel  life  did  not  seem  to  him  quite  suited  to  the  dig- 
nity of  the  house  of  Illyria.  Paris,  at  this  time,  was  full 
of  exiled  sovereigns,  all  of  whom  lived  in  sumptuous  style. 
The  King  of  Westphalia  occupied  a  magnificent  residence 
in  Rue  de  Neubourg,  with  a  pavilion  for  his  retainers. 

The  hotel  of  the  Queen  of  Galicia,  in  the  Champs 
Elysees,  was  a  perfect  palace  of  luxury  and  royal  style. 
The  King  of  Palermo  had  a  house  finely  fitted  up  at  Saint 
Mande,  with  many  horses  in  his  stable,  and  a  whole  bat- 
talion of  aides-de-camp ;  and  there  was  no  one,  not  even 
the  Duke  of  Palma  in  his  little  house  at  Passy,  who  had 


FIRST  DAY.  13 

not  a  semblance  of  a  court,  and  five  or  six  generals  always 
at  his  table. 

"No  doubt,  no  doubt,"  said  Christian,  becoming  im- 
patient; "but  it  is  not  the  same  thing.  They  will  never 
leave  Paris  :  it  is  understood,  —  a  fixed  fact ;  while  we  — 
But  there  is  a  good  reason  for  us  not  to  buy  a  palace, 
Friend  Rosen.  Every  thing  was  taken  from  us  in  lUyria. 
Several  hundred  thousand  francs  with  the  Rothschilds  at 
Naples,  and  our  poor  diadem,  which  Madame  de  Silvis 
saved  for  us  in  a  hat-box,  ai-e  all  we  have  left.  If  I  could 
only  describe  the  marchioness  on  this  long  journey  into 
exile,  —  now  on  foot,  then  on  the  sea,  in  cars,  or  in  a  car- 
riage, —  carrying  her  precious  box  in  her  hand  !  It  was 
so  droll,  —  so  droll !  " 

And,  his  childish  nature  gaining  the  ascendency,  he 
began  to  laugh  at  their  distress  as  the  most  amusing  thing 
in  the  world. 

But  the  duke  did  not  laugh. 

"  Sire,"  he  said,  with  so  much  emotion  on  his  withered 
face  that  the  wrinkles  trembled,  "  you  did  me  the  honor 
to  assure  me  just  now  that  you  regretted  having  left  me 
so  long  far  from  your  counsel  and  from  your  heart. 
Well,  I  ask  a  favor  in  return.  While  your  exile  continues, 
let  me  again  fill  the  position  held  near  your  Majesties  at 
Laybach,  —  the  head  of  the  civil  and  military  service." 

"  See  the  ambitious  man  !  "  cried  the  king  gayly.  Then 
he  added  in  a  friendly  tone,  "  But  there  is  no  longer  a 
home,  my  poor  General,  —  neither  domestic  nor  military. 
The  queen  has  her  chaplain  and  two  waiting-women ; 
Zara  has  his  governess ;  while  I  took  Boscovich  for  my 
correspondence,  and  Master  Lebeau  to  shave  me  :  these 
are  all." 

"  In  that  case,  your   Highness,  I  will   make   another 


14  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

request.  Will  your  Majesty  take  my  son  Herljert  as  aide- 
de-camp,  and  the  princess  here  as  reader  and  maid  of 
honor  to  the  queen?  " 

"  It  is  granted  on  my  part,"  said  the  queen,  turning 
with  her  beautiful  smile  to  Colette,  who  was  enchanted 
with  her  new  dignity. 

As  for  the  prince,  he,  with  a  charming  neigh  (a  habit 
acquired  by  living  at  Tattersall's) ,  thanked  his  sovereign, 
who  brevetted  him  aide-de-camp  with  the  same  gracious- 
ness  as  the  queen. 

"  I  will  present  the  three  appointments  to-morrow  morn- 
ing for  your  signature,"  added  the  general  briefly,  though 
in  a  respectful  tone,  indicating  that  he  already  considered 
that  he  had  entered  upon  his  duties. 

On  hearing  this  voice  and  this  formula,  which  had  so 
long  and  so  solemnly  pursued  him,  the  face  of  the  young 
king  wore  an  expression  of  discouragement  and  ennui. 
Then  he  consoled  himself  by  looking  at  the  little  princess, 
whom  happiness  beautified  and  transfigured,  as  is  the  case 
with  pretty  little  faces  without  marked  features,  whose  sole 
charm  is  their  piquant  and  mobile  expression. 

Only  think  of  it,  —  maid  of  honor  to  Queen  Fr6d6- 
rique  !  She,  Colette  Sauvadon,  the  niece  of  Sauvadon, 
the  great  wine-merchant  of  Bercy  !  What  would  they 
say  to  it  in  Rue  de  Varennes  and  Rue  Saint  Dominique, 
—  in  those  exclusive  salons  where  her  marriage  with 
Herbert  de  Rosen  had  given  her  an  entree  on  days  of 
ceremony,  but  never  on  a  footing  of  social  intimacy? 
Already  her  little  worldly  imagination  was  wandering  in  a 
court  she  pictured  to  herself.  She  thought  of  the  visiting- 
cards  she  would  order,  and  the  new  toilets,  —  a  dress 
with  the  colors  of  lUyria,  and  rosettes  to  match  for  her 
horses'  heads.  But  the  voice  of  the  king  roused  her 
from  her  dreanis. 


FIRST  DAY.  15 

"This  is  our  first  meal  in  the  bad  of  exile,"  he  said  to 
Rosen  in  a  half-serious  tone  ;  and  added,  with  intentional 
emphasis,  "  I  wish  my  table  to  be  gay,  and  surrounded 
by  all  our  friends." 

On  observing  the  horrified  look  of  the  general  at  this 
brusque  invitation,  he  added,  — 

"  Ah,  yes  !  it  is  true,  —  etiquette  and  behavior  !  But, 
dear  me  !  we  have  become  accustomed  to  do  without  all 
that  since  the  siege  ;  and  the  head  of  our  house  will  find 
many  reforms  to  make.  Only  I  beg  that  they  won't  begin 
till  to-morrow." 

Just  then  the  steward  appeared  at  the  folding-doors, 
which  stood  wide  open,  and  announced  their  Majesties' 
dinner.  The  princess  arose  proudly  to  take  Christian's 
arm ;  but  he  offered  it  to  the  queen,  and,  without  trou- 
bling himself  about  his  guests,  escorted  her  to  the  dining- 
room.  All  the  court  ceremony  had  not  been  left  behind 
in  the  casemates  at  Ragusa,  whatever  he  might  say. 

The  change  from  sunlight  to  candlelight  had  a  severe 
effect  on  the  guests  as  they  entered  the  dining-hall.  Not- 
withstanding the  chandelier,  the  candelabra,  and  two 
large  lamps  on  the  buffet,  one  could  hardly  see ;  for  the 
daylight,  which  had  been  shut  out  at  this  untimely  hour, 
crept  in,  and  made  the  room  dim  as  at  twilight.  The 
general  dreariness  of  the  apartment  was  increased  by  the 
appearance  of  the  table,  which  was  very  long,  and  out  of 
all  proportion  to  the  small  number  of  guests.  The  hotel 
had  been  searched  for  just  such  a  table,  which  might 
answer  all  the  requirements  of  etiquette,  and  at  which 
the  king  and  queen  could  sit  together  at  one  end,  with  no 
one  at  their  side  or  opposite. 

This  filled  the  little  Princess  de  Rosen  with  admiration 
and  astonishment.     In  the  last  days  of  the  empire,  when 


I  6  JT/JVGS  TN  EXILE. 

she  visited  the  Tuileries,  she  remembered  having  seen  the 
emperor  and  empress  sitting  opposite  each  other  like 
bourgeois  at  their  wedding-dinner. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  little  cocodette,  shutting  her  fan  reso- 
lutely, and  placing  it  near  her  by  the  side  of  her  gloves, 
"this  is  royalty.  There  is  nothing  like  it."  In  her  eyes 
this  thought  transformed  this  table,  which  resembled  one 
of  the  tables  d'hote  in  the  splendid  inns  of  the  Cornici  be- 
tween Monaco  and  San  Remo  in  the  beginning  of  the  sea- 
son, when  the  majority  of  the  tourists  have  not  arrived. 
There  was  the  same  variety  of  people  and  toilets,  —  Chris- 
tian in  a  jacket,  the  queen  in  her  travelling-dress,  Herbert 
and  his  wife  in  a  watteau  of  the  boulevards,  and  the  Fran- 
ciscan robe  of  Pere  Alph^e,  the  queen's  chaplain,  brushing 
against  the  gold-laced  undress  uniform  of  the  general.  In 
short,  nothing  could  be  less  imposing.  There  was  but 
one  thing  that  was  impressive,  and  that  was  the  chaplain's 
prayer,  calling  down  divine  benediction  on  this  first  meal 
in  exile. 

"  Quce  sumus  sumpturi  prima  die  in  exilic,'''  said  the 
monk,  with  extended  hands ;  and  these  words,  slowly  re- 
cited, seemed  to  prolong  King  Christian's  short  vacation 
far  into  the  future. 

"Amen!"  responded  the  dethroned  sovereign  in  a 
grave  voice,  as  if  in  the  Church  Latin  he  at  last  felt  con- 
scious of  the  thousand  sundered  ties  still  quivering  with 
life,  like  the  living  roots  of  uprooted  trees,  which  exiles 
of  all  times  have  borne  with  them. 

But  this  soft  and  caressing  Slavonian  nature  did  not 
allow  him  to  long  retain  strong  impressions.  He  had 
hardly  seated  himself  before  he  resumed  his  gayety  and 
indifferent  air,  and  began  to  talk  a  great  deal,  out  of  re- 
spect for  the  Parisian  lady  speaking  French,  which  he  did 


FIRST  DAY.  17 

with  great  purity,  though  with  a  shght  Italian  2  sound, 
which  went  well  with  his  laugh.  He  related  certain  epi- 
sodes of  the  siege  in  an  heroic-comic  tone,  —  of  the  court 
taking  up  their  quarters  in  the  casemates,  and  the  absurd 
appearance  which  the  governess,  the  Marchioness  Eleonora 
de  Silvis,  made  in  them  with  her  bonnet  and  green  feather 
and  her  plaid.  Fortunately  the  innocent  lady  was  din- 
ing in  her  pupil's  room,  and  could  not  hear  the  laughter 
provoked  by  the  king's  jokes.  Boscovich  and  his  her- 
barium next  served  him  for  a  target.  It  seemed  as  if  he 
were  trying  to  revenge  himself  for  his  grave  situation  by 
indulging  in  nonsense. 

The  Aulic  councillor  Boscovich  —  a  timid  Uttle  gentle- 
man, of  no  particular  age,  with  rabbit's  eyes  that  always 
looked  sideways  —  was  a  learned  lawyer  with  a  passion  for 
botany.  When  the  courts  were  not  in  session  at  Ragusa, 
he  spent  his  time  in  botanizing  under  fire,  in  the  ditches 
of  fortifications,  —  an  almost  unconscious  heroism  in  one 
absorbed  in  a  mania,  and  who,  through  all  the  troubles 
of  his  country,  thought  of  nothing  else  but  a  magnificent 
herbarium  left  in  the  hands  of  the  Liberals. 

"  My  poor  Boscovich,"  said  Christian,  to  finghten  him, 
"  think  what  a  splendid  bonfire  they  must  have  made  of 
those  heaps  of  dried  flowers,  unless  the  Republicans, 
being  too  poor  to  do  this,  took  it  into  their  heads  to  cut 
up  your  big  sheets  of  blotting-paper  for  fatigue-caps  for 
their  militia  ! " 

The  councillor  laughed  like  the  rest  of  the  company, 
but  with  a  frightened  look,  and  a  "But  —  but  —  but," 
which  betrayed  his  childlike  fear. 

"  How  charming  the  king  is  !  he  has  so  much  wit  and 
such  beautiful  eyes  ! "  thought  the  little  princess,  whom 
Christian  bent  over  every  moment,  trjing  to  lessen  the 
ceremonious  distance  between  them. 


1 8  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

It  was  a  pleasure  to  see  her  expand  under  his  gracious 
looks,  and  play  wiili  her  fan,  and  utter  little  exclamations 
of  delight,  and  draw  back  her  supple  frame,  which  quiv- 
ered with  undulating  waves  of  laughter. 

The  queen,  through  her  attitude  and  the  familiar  con- 
versation she  was  holding  with  the  duke,  seemed  to  be 
shut  out  of  this  extravagant  gaycty.  Two  or  three  times, 
when  they  spoke  of  the  siege,  she  uttered  a  {^v^  words, 
and  each  time  to  proclaim  the  king's  bravery  and  strategic 
skill ;  then  she  again  kept  aloof  from  the  conversation. 
The  general,  in  a  low  voice,  asked  after  the  people  at  the 
court,  and  his  former  companions,  who,  more  fortunate 
than  he,  followed  their  sovereigns  to  Ragusa.  Many 
remained  there  ;  and,  at  every  name  spoken  by  Rosen,  the 
queen  answered  in  her  serious  voice,  "  Dead  !  dead  !  "  like 
the  stroke  of  a  funeral-knell  tolling  those  recently  lost. 
But  after  dinner,  when  they  returned  to  the  salo?i,  Fr^d^- 
rique  became  somewhat  more  lively.  She  bade  Colette  de 
Rosen  sit  by  her  side  on  a  divan,  and  talked  to  her  with 
that  affectionate  familiarity  with  which  she  tried  to  bring 
people  nearer  to  her,  and  which  was  like  the  clasp  of  her 
beautiful  hand,  —  with  the  delicate  touch  of  the  fingers,  but 
strong  pressure  of  the  palm,  —  which  communicated  its  in- 
spiriting earnestness  to  others.     All  at  once  she  said,  — 

"  Let  us  go  and  see  them  put  Zara  to  bed.  Princess," 

At  the  end  of  a  long  corridor  —  which,  like  the  apart- 
ments, was  blocked  up  with  piles  of  boxes  and  open 
trunks,  whose  contents  had  been  pulled  out  in  the  dis- 
order of  arrival  —  opened  the  room  of  the  little  prince, 
which  was  lighted  by  a  lamp,  with  a  screen  lowered  so 
that  the  light  came  only  to  the  line  of  the  blue  bed- 
curtains.  A  servant  was  sleeping  on  a  trunk,  with  her 
head  enveloped  in  a  white  cap  and  the  large  fichu  bor- 


'Good  evening,   mamma!     Must  we   rj-i   :i,-,jj'  agj  ri    "      t^i^"    ' 


FIRST  DAY.  19 

dered  with  pink,  which  completes  the  head-dress  of  Dal- 
matian women.  Near  the  table,  the  governess,  lightly 
leaning  on  her  elbow,  with  an  open  book  on  her  knees, 
also  yielded  to  the  drowsy  influence  of  reading,  and  even 
in  her  sleep  preserved  the  romantic,  sentimental  air 
which  the  king  made  such  sport  of.  The  entrance 
of  the  queen  did  not  awaken  her ;  but  the  little  prince, 
at  the  first  movement  of  the  mosquito-netting  which 
veiled  his  bed,  stretched  out  his  little  fist's,  and  made  an 
effort  to  sit  up  with  his  eyes  open,  and  gazed  vacantly 
around.  For  some  months  he  had  become  so  accus- 
tomed to  being  taken  up  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  and 
hastily  dressed  for  flight  or  a  journey,  and  on  awakening 
to  see  new  faces  and  new  surroundings,  that  his  sleep 
was  no  longer  regular  and  calm,  —  no  longer  a  ten-hours' 
journey  to  the  land  of  dreams  which  children  accom- 
plish, while  breathing  quietly  and  uninterruptedly,  with 
their  little  mouths  partly  open. 

"  Good-evening,  mamma ! "  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 
" Must  we  run  away  again?  " 

In  these  resigned  and  touching  words,  one  felt  that 
here  was  a  child  that  had  suffered  much  from  misfortunes 
too  great  for  him  to  bear. 

"  No,  no,  my  darling  !  we  are  safe  this  time.  Go  to 
sleep  again  :   you  must  have  sleep." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad  I  can  !  for  I  shall  return  with  the 
giant  Robistor  to  the  mountain  of  glass.  I  was  having 
such  a  nice  time  there  !  " 

"  His  head  is  full  of  Madame  Eleonora's  stories,"  said 
the  queen  softly.  "  Poor  little  fellow  !  life  is  so  dark  for 
him.  He  has  only  stories  to  amuse  him.  His  mind  must 
be  occupied  with  something  else,  however." 

While  speaking,  she  shook  up  the  child's  pillow,  and 


20  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

gently  laid  him  back  to  rest  with  loving  caresses,  as  any 
simple  woman  among  the  bourgeoisie  might  have  done, 
which  quite  upset  Colette  de  Rosen's  lofty  ideas  about 
royalty.  Then,  as  she  leaned  over  to  kiss  her  son,  he 
asked  from  his  pillow,  if  that  was  cannon  or  the  sea 
grumbling  in  the  distance.  The  queen  listened  a  mo- 
ment to  a  confused,  continual  rumbling,  which  at  times 
shook  the  walls  and  rattled  the  window-panes,  and  was 
felt  from  the  roof  of  the  house  to  its  foundation,  —  at 
times  becoming  fainter,  then  suddenly  increasing  and  re- 
peating itself  afar. 

"  That  is  nothing :  it  is  Paris,  my  son.  Go  to  sleep 
now." 

And  the  child,  who  had  fallen  from  a  throne,  and  to 
whom  they  had  talked  of  Paris  as  a  place  of  refuge,  went 
to  sleep  again,  full  of  confidence,  though  cradled  by  the 
city  of  revolutions. 

When  the  queen  and  princess  returned  to  the  salon, 
they  found  a  young  woman  with  a  very  grand  air  stand- 
ing and  talking  with  the  king.  The  familiar  tone  of  their 
conversation,  and  the  respectful  distance  which  the  rest 
of  the  company  kept,  indicated  that  it  was  a  person  of 
importance. 

The  queen  uttered  a  cry  of  delight :  — 

"Maria  !" 

"  Frdderique  !  " 

And  with  one  impulse  they  sprang  into  each  other's 
arms.  At  an  inquiring  look  from  his  wife,  Herbert  de 
Rosen  gave  the  visitor's  name.  It  was  the  Queen  of 
Palermo.  Being  rather  taller,  and  more  slender  than  her 
cousin  from  lUyria,  she  seemed  several  years  older.  Her 
black  eyes,  and  black  hair  turned  back  smoothly  from  her 
forehead,  and  her  dark  complexion,  gave  her  the  appear- 


FIRST  DAY.  21 

ance  of  an  Italian,  although  she  was  bom  in  the  Bavarian 
court.  There  was  nothing  German  about  her  except  the 
stiffness  of  her  tall,  flat  figure,  the  haughty  expression  of 
her  smile,  and  an  indescribable  lack  of  harmony  and 
taste  in  her  toilet  peculiar  to  women  beyond  the  Rhine. 

Fr^derique,  who  was  early  left  an  orphan,  was  brought 
up  with  this  cousin  at  Munich  ;  and,  though  they  had  been 
separated  in  after  life,  they  retained  a  strong  affection  for 
each  other. 

"  You  see  I  could  not  wait,"  said  the  Queen  of  Paler- 
mo, holding  out  her  hands.  "  Cecco  had  not  come  back  ; 
so  I  came  without  him.  I  did  so  long  to  see  you  :  I  have 
thought  of  you  so  often  !  Oh  !  the  cannon  that  night  at 
Ragusa  and  Vincennes  !   I  seemed  to  hear  it." 

"  It  was  only  the  echo  of  that  at  Caserte,"  interrupted 
Christian,  alluding  to  the  heroic  attitude  maintained  a  few 
years  before  by  this  queen,  who,  like  them,  was  dethroned 
and  exiled. 

"  Ah,  yes  !  Caserte  ! "  she  said  with  a  sigh.  "  We,  too, 
ivere  left  alone.  It  was  pitiful.  Why  should  not  all 
crowns  endure?     But  it  is  over  now.     The  world  is  mad." 

Then,  turning  to  Christian,  she  continued,  — 

"  It  is  all  one  to  me.  I  present  you  my  compliments, 
Cousin.     You  fell  like  a  king." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Christian,  pointing  to  Fred^rique,  "there  is 
the  real  king  of  us  two." 

A  motion  from  his  wife  checked  him  from  saying  more. 
He  bowed  with  a  smile,  and,  wheeling  around,  said  to  his 
aide-de-camp,  — 

"  Come,  Herbert,  let  us  go  and  have  a  smoke." 

And  both  stepped  out  on  the  balcony. 

It  was  a  splendid,  warm  evening ;  the  brilliant  glow  of 
day  was  not  yet  eclipsed  by  the  dazzling  gaslight  with 


22  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

which  it  blended  in  a  dying  glimmer  of  bluish  vapor.  A 
gentle  breeze,  like  that  from  a  fan,  stirred  the  dense  black 
mass  of  the  chestnut-trees  around  the  Tuileries ;  and  the 
stars  were  brightening  the  sky  above.  With  this  cool, 
open  space,  in  which  the  noise  of  the  crowd  was  unheard, 
the  Rue  de  Rivoli  lost  the  stifling  aspect  of  Paris  streets  in 
summer  ;  but  one  still  could  hear  the  immense  travel  from 
the  town  to  the  Champs  Elys^es,  and  the  open-air  con- 
certs under  the  showers  of  sky-rockets.  The  pleasure 
that  winter  shuts  in  behind  the  warm  drapery  of  the 
closed  windows  sang  freely,  laughed,  and  ran,  —  the  pleas- 
ure that  young  girls  find  in  hats  with  flowers,  floating 
mantillas,  and  light  dresses,  with  the  reflection  of  a  street- 
lamp  displaying  a  white  throat,  around  which  is  fastened 
a  black  ribbon  ;  the  gay  throngs  from  the  cafes  crowding 
the  sidewalks,  and  mingling  their  voices  with  the  shouting 
of  venders  of  ices,  the  jingling  of  money,  and  the  clinking 
of  glasses. 

"This  Paris  is  a  wonderful  place,"  said  Christian  of 
Illyria,  puffing  out  little  rings  of  smoke  into  the  darkness. 
"  Even  the  air  is  different  here  from  elsewhere.  There 
is  something  exciting,  intoxicating,  about  it ;  and  at  Lay- 
bach  at  this  hour  every  thing  is  dead,  the  houses  closed, 
and  the  people  gone  to  bed."  Then  he  added  joyously, 
"  Ah,  now.  Aide-de-camp  !  I  hope  I  shall  be  initiated  into 
Parisian  pleasures.  You  seem  to  me  to  be  well  posted 
and  thoroughly  launched." 

"Yes,  indeed,  your  Highness  !  "  said  Herbert,  neighing 
with  pleasure  and  pride.  "  At  the  club,  the  opera,  and 
everywhere,  they  call  me  the  King  of  the  Swells." 

While  Christian  was  having  this  new  word  explained  to 
him,  the  two  queens,  who  had  gone  into  Fr^d^rique's 
room  in  order  to  talk  more  freely,  were  giving  their  ex- 


FIRST  DAY.  23 

periences  in  long  stories  and  sad  confidences ;  and  their 
whispering  was  heard  through  the  partly  open  blinds. 
Father  Alph^e  and  the  old  duke  were  talking  to  each 
other  in  a  low  voice  in  the  salon. 

"  He  is  right,"  said  the  chaplain  :  "  it  is  she  who  is  the 
king,  the  true  king.  If  you  could  have  seen  her  on 
horseback  riding  at  full  speed  day  and  night.  At  Fort 
San  Angelo,  when  it  rained  shot,  in  order  to  encourage 
the  soldiers,  she  rode  twice  round  the  ramparts,  sitting 
proudly  erect,  with  her  riding-skirt  raised  over  her  arm 
and  her  whip  in  her  hand,  as  if  she  were  in  her  park  at  the 
residence.  And  you  should  have  seen  our  sailors  when 
she  alighted.  And  he,  during  that  time,  was  travelling 
Heaven  knows  where.  He  is  brave,  parbleu  /  as  brave  as 
she,  but  with  no  thought  of  his  destiny,  no  faith ;  and  to 
reach  heaven,  as  well  as  to  save  one's  crown,  Duke,  one 
must  have  faith." 

The  monk  was  getting  excited  and  grandiloquent  in 
his  long  robe,  and  Rosen  was  obliged  to  calm  him. 

"  Softly,  Father  Alph^e  !  Father  Alph^e  !  come,  come  !  " 
he  said,  fearing  Colette  might  hear  them. 

She  had  been  left  to  the  company  of  the  councillor 
Boscovich,  who  was  entertaining  her  about  his  plants, 
using  scientific  terms  in  giving  the  most  minute  details 
of  his  botanical  excursions.  His  conversation  savored  of 
dried  herbs  and  the  dust  of  an  old  country  library.  But 
then  there  is  such  a  powerful  attraction  about  nobility,  its 
atmosphere  is  so  deliciously  mtoxicating  to  certain  little 
natures  eager  to  breathe  it,  that  the  young  princess,  — 
this  Princess  Colette,  —  the  constant  attendant  at  balls  in 
high  life,  races,  and  rehearsals,  and  always  the  first  among 
the  pleasure-seekers  in  Paris,  —  put  on  her  prettiest  smile 
while  listening  to  the  dry  botanical  classifications  of  the 


24  JCINGS  IN  EXILE. 

councillor.  It  was  sufficient  for  her  that  a  king  was  talking 
at  the  window  near  her ;  that  two  queens  were  exchan- 
ging confidences  in  the  room  by  her  side ;  that  this  com- 
monplace hotel  salon,  where  her  elegance  was  out  of  i)lace, 
was  filled  with  the  grandeur  and  sad  majesty  which  ren- 
ders the  vast  halls  at  Versailles  so  gloomy  with  their  waxed 
floors,  polished  and  bright  as  the  mirrors.  She  could 
have  remained  here  in  ecstasy  till  midnight,  without  mov- 
ing or  becoming  wearied,  feeling  only  somewhat  puzzled 
by  the  long  conversation  Christian  was  holding  with  her 
husband.  What  grave  questions  were  they  discussing? 
what  extensive  projects  for  restoration  of  the  monarchy? 
Her  curiosity  increased  when  she  saw  them  both  come  in 
with  Hvely  faces,  and  a  bright  resolute  look  in  their  eyes. 

"  I  am  going  out  with  his  Highness,"  Herbert  said  to 
her  in  a  low  voice.     "  My  father  will  escort  you  home." 

The  king  then  approached  :  — 

"  You  will  not  be  too  angry  with  me.  Princess,  I  hope. 
His  duties  have  begun." 

"  Every  moment  of  our  lives  belongs  to  your  Majesties," 
answered  the  young  woman,  feeling  convinced  that  some 
important  step  was  about  to  be  taken,  —  perhaps  a  first 
rendezvous  of  conspirators.  Oh,  if  she  too  could  have 
been  one  of'  them  ! 

Christian  went  to  the  queen's  room,  but,  when  near 
her  door,  stopped. 

"  They  are  weeping,"  he  said  to  Herbert.  "  A  good- 
evening  to  them  :  I  will  not  enter." 

When  in  the  street,  he  gave  vent  to  his  joy  and  relief, 
passing  his  arm  under  that  of  his  aide-de-camp,  after 
lighting  a  cigar  in  the  vestibule  of  the  hotel. 

"  Do  you  know,  it  is  so  pleasant  to  go  off  alone  through 
the  crowd,  and  to  walk  in  the  ranks  like  other  men,  to 


FIRST  DAY.  25 

be  master  of  one's  words  and  moveuicnls,  and,  when  a 
pretty  girl  passes,  to  be  able  to  turn  your  head  round 
without  all  Europe  being  excited  over  it?  That  is  the 
benefit  of  being  an  exile.  When  I  was  here  eight  years 
ago,  I  saw  only  Paris  through  the  windows  of  the  Tuiler- 
ies,  and  from  the  height  of  gala  carriages.  Now  I  wish  to 
know  it  thoroughly,  and  go  everywhere.  Sapristi  !  now 
I  think  of  it :  I  am  making  you  walk,  and  you  are  lame, 
my  poor  Herbert !     Wait :  we  will  stop  a  carriage." 

The  prince  protested  that  his  leg  did  not  pain  him. 
He  felt  strong  enough  to  go  where  they  intended.  But 
Christian  would  not  consent. 

"  No,  no  :  I  do  not  wish  my  guide  to  be  foundered  the 
ver}'  first  evening." 

He  hailed  a  cheap  public  hack  that  was  rolling  towards 
the  Place  de  la  Concorde  with  a  clattering  of  broken 
springs,  and  a  cracking  of  the  whip  on  the  bony  spine  of 
the  horse,  and  jumped  in  lightly,  and  threw  himself  back 
on  the  old,  faded  blue  cushions,  and  rubbed  his  hands 
in  childlike  joy. 

"  Where  shall  I  take  you,  my  Prince  ? "  asked  the 
coachman,  not  knowing  he  had  used  the  right  title. 

"  To  Mabille  !  "  cried  Christian  of  Illyria  triumphantly, 
like  a  liberated  collegian. 


26  X/NGS  IN  EXILJi, 


CHAPTER    II. 

A    ROYALIST, 

Through  a  fine,  piercing  December  rain,  which  froze 
on  their  brown  woollen  frocks  like  the  points  of  needles, 
two  monks  with  bare  unshaven  heads,  and  wearing  the 
girdle  and  hood  of  the  Order  of  St.  Francis,  were  rapidly 
descending  the  hill  in  Rue  Monsieur-le-Prince. 

Among  the  changes  in  the  Latin  Quarter,  —  the  broad 
gaps  made  by  cannonading,  which  demolished  the  sou- 
venirs and  original  character  of  ancient  Paris,  —  Rue  Mon- 
sieur-le-Prince still  has  the  aspect  of  a  student's  street. 
Bookstores,  cook-shops,  coffee-shops,  with  those  of  bric- 
a-brac  merchants  and  dealers  in  silver  and  gold,  are 
alternately  seen  as  far  as  the  hill  Sainte-Genevifeve,  which 
the  students  cUmb  every  hour  in  the  day,  —  not  those  from 
Gavarni,  with  long  hair  escaping  from  their  woollen  caps, 
but  future  advocates,  wrapped  from  head  to  foot  in  ulsters, 
and  carefully  brushed  and  well  gloved,  with  enormous 
morocco  bags  under  their  arms,  and  having  already  the 
manner  of  cold,  shrewd  men  of  business.  Besides  these, 
there  were  medical  students,  rather  freer  in  their  ways, 
who,  notwithstanding  their  studies  of  matter  and  of 
human  beings,  preserved  an  exuberance  of  life  as  a 
relief  from  their  constant  dealings  with  death. 

At  this  ekrly  hour  in  the  morning,  girls  in  wrappers  and 
slippers,  with  eyes  swollen  from  late  hours,  and  hair  care- 
lessly tucked  into  a  loose  net,  were  crossing  the  street  to 


Their  absent  eyes  looked  steadily  in  front.     Page  27. 


A   ROYALIST.  i^ 

buy  at  the  coffee-shops  milk  for  l^reakfast.  Some  were 
laughing,  and  running  along  through  the  hail ;  while  others, 
on  the  contrary,  were  very  dignified,  and  balanced  their  tin 
cans,  and  shuffled  along  in  their  old  shoes  and  faded  attire, 
with  the  majestic  hauteur  of  fairy  queens.  Notwithstand- 
ing the  ulsters  and  morocco  bags,  hearts  of  twenty  must 
have  their  day ;  and  the  students  smiled  on  the  fair  ones. 

"  Stop  a  moment,  Lea  ! "  "  Good-morning,  Clem- 
ence  ! "  they  called  from  one  sidewalk  to  the  other,  and 
made  rendezvous  for  the  evening  "at  Medicis  "  or  "at 
Louis  XI IL"  And  again,  if  the  fair  ones  received  too 
spicy  a  compliment,  which  they  took  amiss,  they  would 
burst  out  in  a  startling  fit  of  girlish  indignation,  in  the 
stereotyped  form,  — 

"  Go  your  way,  you  insolent  fellow  !  " 

It  can  be  imagined  that  the  friars'  frocks  shrank  from 
the  contact  of  all  these  young  people,  who  jostled  them 
as  they  went  laughing  home,  but  laughing  to  themselves, 
for  the  appearance  of  one  of  the  Franciscans  was  forbid- 
ding. He  was  as  black,  slender,  and  lean  as  a  carob-pod, 
and  had  a  terrible  face  under  his  bushy  eyebrows,  like 
that  of  a  pirate ;  while  his  robe,  which  his  girdle  confined 
in  big,  bulgy  folds,  revealed  the  loins  and  muscles  of  an 
athlete. 

Neither  he  nor  his  companion  appeared  to  notice  what 
was  going  on  in  the  street,  whose  atmosphere  they  shook 
off  with  their  rapid  walking ;  while  their  absent  eyes 
looked  steadily  in  front  of  them,  as  their  thoughts  were 
wholly  absorbed  on  the  end  of  their  journey.  Before 
reaching  the  wide  steps  which  lead  to  the  Medical  School, 
the  oldest  beckoned  to  the  other,  and  said,  — 

"This  is  it." 

"  This  "  meant  a  furnished  hotel,  of  shabby  appearance, 
a 


28  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

with  a  green  gate,  with  a  bell,  opening  into  the  passage 
which  led  between  a  newspaper-shop  filled  with  pam- 
phlets, and  songs  for  two  sous,  and  colored  pictures  in 
which  the  grotesque  hat  of  Basile  was  repeated  in  a 
thousand  attitudes,  and  a  brewery  on  the  lower  floor, 
which  bore  on  its  sign  "The  Brewery  of  the  Rialto," 
where  the  work  was  done  by  young  girls  in  Venetian 
head-dresses. 

"Has  Monsieur  Elys6c  gone  out?"  asked  one  of  the 
fathers,  as  he  went  by  the  hotel  office  on  his  way  to  the 
first  story. 

A  big  woman,  who  must  have  gone  into  many  lodgings 
before  finding  one  to  suit,  lazily  answered  from  her  chair, 
without  even  looking  at  the  row  of  keys  dismally  ranged 
in  the  key-rack. 

"  Gone  out  at  this  hour  !  It  would  be  much  better  for 
you  to  ask  if  he  has  come  in." 

Then  a  glance  at  the  woollen  robes  made  her  change 
her  tone  ;  and  she  pointed,  in  the  greatest  confusion,  to 
the  room  of  Elys^e  M^raut. 

"  No.  36,  on  the  fifth  floor,  at  the  end  of  the  hall." 

The  Franciscan  friars  ascended,  and  wandered  through 
narrow  corridors  encumbered  with  men's  muddy  boots 
and  women's  high-heel  boots,  some  of  which  were  gray 
or  reddish  brown,  and  of  either  fancy,  elegant,  or  cheap 
make,  and  which  told  the  tale  about  the  "inhabitant." 
But  the  priests  paid  no  attention  to  them,  sweeping  them 
along  with  their  rough  skirts  and  the  cross  pending  from 
their  long  rosaries  ;  and  they  were  equally  indifferent  when 
a  beautiful  girl  in  a  red  petticoat,  with  her  bare  throat 
and  arms  showing  under  a  man's  great  coat,  crossed  the 
landing  on  the  third  story,  and  leaned  over  the  bannister, 
and  called  a  boy,  with  a  thin,  worn  voice  and  laugh  that 
came  fi^om  a  singularly  vulgar  mouth. 


^  ROYALIST.  29 

The  two  men  exchanged  a  significant  look. 

**  If  he  is  the  man  you  say  he  is,"  muttered  the  pirate, 
with  a  very  foreign  accent,  "  he  has  chosen  pecuhar  sur- 
roundings." 

The  other,  who  was  older,  with  a  cunning,  intelligent 
face,  and  a  velvety  smile  of  malice  and  priestly  indul- 
gence, replied,  — 

"  Saint  Paul  among  the  Gentiles." 

When  they  reached  the  fifth  story,  they  were  again 
embarrassed  for  a  moment ;  for  the  arch  of  the  staircase, 
being  very  low  and  dark,  almost  prevented  them  from  dis- 
tinguishing the  numbers  on  the  doors,  which  were  orna- 
mented with  placards  as  follows  :  — 

«Mlle.   ALICE," 

without  any  sign  of  her  profession,  which,  however,  would 
have  been  useless,  as  there  were  several  of  the  same  trade 
in  the  house  ;  and  the  good  fathers  knocked  at  one  door 
hap-hazard. 

"  We  must  call  hm\,parbleu  !  "  said  the  monk  with  the 
black  eyebrows ;  and  he  made  the  hotel  resound  with 
the  name  of  "  Monsieur  Meraut,"  shouted  with  a  strong 
mihtary  accent. 

No  less  vigorous  and  ringing  than  his  call  was  the 
answer  which  came  from  a  room  at  the  end  of  the  pas- 
sage ;  and,  when  they  opened  the  door,  the  voice  contin- 
ued joyously,  — 

"  Is  it  you,  Father  Melchior?  No  luck  !  I  thought  I 
was  to  have  a  registered  letter.  But  come  in,  your  Rev- 
erences !  You  are  very  welcome.  Take  a  seat,  if  you 
can  find  one." 

This  was  difficult  indeed  ;  for  over  all  the  furniture  were 
spread  books,  journals,  and  reviews,  concealing  the  sor- 


30  KINGS   IN  EXILE. 

did,  commonplace  look  of  lodgings  of  the  eighteenth 
order,  with  its  dull  tiles,  tumble-down  lounge,  and  the 
everlasting  secretary  of  the  Empire,  and  three  chairs  in 
dingy  velvet.  On  the  bed  printed  papers  were  lying  in 
confusion  with  clothing  and  the  scant  counterpane.  They 
were  bundles  of  proofs,  which  the  owner  of  the  apartment, 
who  was  still  in  bed,  was  slashing  with  heavy  dashes  of  a 
colored  pencil.  This  wretched  working-room,  with  its 
fireless  chimney-place  and  dusty,  bare  walls,  was  lighted 
from  neighboring  roofs  by  the  reflection  of  a  rainy  sky 
on  wet  slates ;  which  also  revealed  the  forehead  of  Me- 
raut,  whose  bilious,  powerful  face  had  the  sad,  intellectual 
light  which  distinguishes  certain  faces  one  only  meets  in 
Paris. 

"  My  same  old  den,  you  see,  Father  Melchior.  What 
can  you  expect?  I  stopped  here  on  my  arrival  eighteen 
years  ago.  Since  then  I  have  not  moved.  There  are  so 
many  dreams  and  hopes  buried  here  in  every  corner,  and 
ideas  that  I  can  find  again  under  a  coating  of  old  dust, 
that  I  am  sure,  if  I  were  to  give  up  this  shabby  room,  I 
should  leave  the  best  part  of  myself  behind.  This  is  so 
true,  that  I  retained  it  when  I  went  abroad." 

"  Well,  what  about  your  journey?"  said  Father  Mel- 
chior, with  a  wink  of  his  eye  to  his  companion.  "  I 
thought  you  had  gone  for  a  long  time.  What  happened  ? 
Did  not  the  situation  suit  you?" 

"  Oh  !  as  to  the  situation,  nothing  could  be  more  de- 
lightful," answered  M^raut,  shaking  his  coarse  head  of  hair. 
"Appointments  by  a  minister  plenipotentiary ;  lodged  in 
the  palace  ;  with  servants,  horses,  and  carriages ;  every  one 
charming  to  me,  —  the  emperor,  empress,  and  archdukes. 
But,  notwithstanding  all  this,  I  grew  weary.  I  longed  for 
Paris,  and  this  neighborhood  above  all ;  and  the  fresh,  live- 


A  ROYALIST.  31 

ly,  stirring  air  we  breathe  here ;  and  the  galleries  of  the 
Odeon  ;  and  the  shops  where  we  fumble  over  new  books 
with  two  fingers,  or  hunt  for  old  ones,  —  those  which  are 
heaped  up  along  the  wharves,  like  a  rampart  sheltering 
studious  Paris  from  the  frivolity  and  selfishness  of  the 
other  Paris.  And  then  that  is  not  all."  Here  his  voice 
became  gx-aver :  "  You  know  what  my  ideas  are.  Father 
Melchior.  You  know  what  was  my  ambition  in  accepting 
that  place  as  a  subaltern.  I  wished  to  make  a  king  of 
that  litde  man,  —  a  king  who  would  be  a  king  indeed,  such 
as  we  do  not  see  nowadays ;  to  elevate  him,  to  make 
him  over,  and  cut  him  out  for  this  grand  I'ole,  which  sur- 
passes and  overpowers  all  others,  like  those  arms  of  the 
middle  ages  which  are  hung  in  armories,  and  weigh  down 
our  shoulders  and  narrow  chests.  Ah,  yes  !  they  were 
liberals,  my  friend,  reformers,  men  of  progress  and  new 
ideas ;  that  is  what  I  found  at  the  court  of  X .  Hor- 
rible bourgeois,  who  cannot  understand,  that,  if  the  mon- 
archy is  condemned,  it  is  better  for  it  to  die  in  combat, 
wrapped  in  its  flag,  rather  than  to  end  its  days  in  a 
ga-ga  chair  pushed  by  some  parhament.  There  was  a 
great  hullabaloo  in  the  palace  at  my  very  first  lesson : 
'  Pray,  where  does  he  come  from  ?  What  does  the  bar- 
barian want  of  us  ? '  Then  they  begged  me,  with  every 
kind  of  flattery,  to  keep  to  simple  schoolmaster's  questions, 
A  school-teacher,  indeed  !  When  I  heard  that,  I  took  my 
hat,  and  bade  their  Majesties  good-evening." 

He  spoke  in  a  full,  strong  voice,  whose  Southern  accent 
rung  through  every  metaUic  cord,  and  his  countenance 
became  transfigured  as  he  spoke.  His  face  —  which  was 
enormous  and  ugly  in  repose,  with  a  lofty  forehead,  above 
which  was  an  inextricable  tangle  of  black  hair  surmounted 
by  a   broad   white  tuft,   with  a   thick,    broken   nose,  a 


32  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

harsh  mouth  not  hidden  by  beard  or  moustache,  and  a 
complexion  that  had  the  burning  glow,  seams,  and  ster- 
ility of  volcanic  soil  —  became  wonderfully  animated  with 
passion. 

Picture  to  yourself  the  rending  asunder  of  a  veil,  the 
lifting  of  a  dark  curtain  from  a  fireplace  whence  suddenly 
bursts  on  your  vision  the  warm,  joyous  glow  of  leaping 
flames,  and  you  will  have  an  idea  of  the  flashes  of  elo- 
quence lighting  the  eyes,  and  quivering  on  his  nose  and 
on  his  lips,  and  rushing  with  the  blood  from  his  heart, 
and  illumining  the  face  that  had  so  long  been  dulled  by 
excesses  and  late  hours. 

The  landscapes  of  Languedoc  —  Meraut's  native  coun- 
try, which  is  bare  and  sterile  and  dusty  gray  like  its  olive- 
trees  —  are  bathed  at  sunset  in  a  glow  of  a  thousand  hues 
from  the  fierce  sun  ;  while  fairy-like  shadows  sweep  over 
these  magnificent  bursts  of  light  and  color,  which  seem 
like  a  decomposed  sunbeam,  the  slow,  graduated  death  of 
a  rainbow. 

"So  you  are  disgusted  with  grandeur?"  resumed  the 
old  monk,  whose  insinuating,  expressionless  voice  formed 
so  great  a  contrast  with  this  outburst  of  eloquence. 

"  I  am  indeed,"  answered  M^raut  energetically. 

"  But  all  kings  are  not  alike.  I  know  one  to  whom 
your  ideas "  — 

"  No,  no,  Father  Melchior.  I  don't  care  to  hear  any 
more  about  them.  I  would  not  make  the  trial  again.  If 
I  were  to  see  too  much  of  sovereigns,  I  fear  I  should  lose 
my  loyalty." 

After  a  moment's  pause,  the  cunning  priest  veered  off 
on  to  a  new  track,  and  introduced  his  subject  through 
another  door  :  — 

"  Your  six  months'  absence  must  have  done  you  harm, 
M^raut." 


A   ROYALIST.  33 

"  Oh,  no  !  not  very  much.  In  the  first  place,  Uncle 
Sauvadon  remained  faithful  to  me.  You  know  Sauvadon, 
my  rich  man  at  Bercy.  As  he  meets  a  great  deal  of  com- 
pany at  his  niece's  house,  and  as  he  wishes  to  engage  in 
the  conversation  there,  he  has  charged  me  to  give  him  what 
he  calls  '  ideas  about  things  '  three  times  a  week.  He  is 
charmingly  7idive  and  confiding,  the  worthy  man  !  '  M. 
M^raut,  what  ought  I  to  think  about  this  book  ? '  he  says. 
'  It  is  execrable,'  I  answer.  '  But  it  seems  to  me  —  I 
heard  some  one  say  at  the  princess's  the  other  even- 
ing '  —  'If  you  have  an  opinion  of  your  own,  my  pres- 
ence here  is  useless.'  — '  No,  no,  my  dear  friend :  you 
know  very  well  that  I  have  not  an  opinion.'  The  fact  is, 
he  really  has  none,  and  blindly  accepts  whatever  I  say.  I 
am  his  thinking-machine.  Since  my  departure  he  has  not 
spoken  at  all  for  lack  of  thoughts.  And,  when  I  return, 
you  ought  to  see  how  he  rushes  to  meet  me.  I  have  two 
Valaques  to  whom  I  give  lessons  in  political  law.  Then 
there  is  always  some  odd  work  on  hand.  I  am  now  finish- 
ing a  '  Memorial  of  the  Siege  of  Ragusa '  from  authentic 
documents.  There  is  not  much  of  my  writing  in  it, 
except  the  last  chapter,  which  pleases  me  pretty  well.  I 
have  the  proofs  here.  Do  you  wish  me  to  read  it?  I 
call  it  'Europe  without  Kings.'" 

While  he  was  reading  his  royalist  memoir,  and  becom- 
ing animated  and  moved  to  tears,  people  in  the  hotel 
were  stirring,  and  youthful  laughs  enlivened  it ;  and  the 
gayety  of  private  pleasure-parties  mingled  with  the  clink- 
ing of  glasses  and  plates  and  the  broken  notes  of  an  old 
piano,  which  made  the  wood  resound  as  some  one  played 
a  popular  dancing-tune. 

It  was  a  powerful  contrast  to  the  scene  above,  which 
the  friars  hardly  perceived,  being  absorbed  in  the  dehght 


34  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

of  that  rude  and  powerful  apology  for  royalty.  The  great 
man  in  particular  was  trembling  and  stamping  his  feet, 
and  restraining  exclamations  of  enthusiasm  with  an  energy 
that  made  him  clasp  his  arms  over  his  bosom  tight  enough 
to  crush  it.  When  the  reading  was  ended,  he  arose,  and 
walked  rapidly  up  and  down  with  a  profusion  of  gestures 
and  words  :  — 

"Yes:  that  is  really  the  true,  the  divine,  legitimate, 
absolute  right."  He  spoke  with  a  Southern  accent.  "  No 
more  parliaments,  no  more  la\vyers.  May  the  whole  lot  be 
burned  !  "  And  his  eyes  sparkled  and  flashed  like  a  fagot 
of  Sainte  Hermandad. 

Father  Melchior,  who  was  calmer,  congratulated  M^raut 
on  his  book  :  — 

"  I  hope  you  will  put  your  name  on  it." 

"  Not  any  more  than  I  have  the  others.  You  know 
very  well.  Father  Melchior,  that  my  only  ambition  is  for 
my  ideas.  The  book  will  be  paid  for  (it  was  my  Sau- 
vadon  who  brought  me  this  windfall)  ;  but  I  would  have 
written  it  for  nothing  with  equal  pleasure.  It  is  so  pleas- 
ant to  study  the  history  of  royalty  in  its  death-agonies ; 
to  listen  to  the  fading  breath  of  the  Old  World  struggling 
and  dying  in  its  exhausted  monarchies.  There  is  a  fallen 
king  who  has  been  a  proud  example  to  all  of  them. 
This  Christian  is  a  hero.  These  random  notes  are  the 
recital  of  a  walk  taken  by  him  under  fire  at  Fort  San 
Angelo.     It  was  a  daring  act." 

One  of  the  fathers  hung  his  head  :  he  knew  better  than 
any  one  what  to  think  of  this  heroic  deed,  and  of  the  still 
more  heroic  falsehood.  But  a  will  stronger  than  his  com- 
manded him  to  be  discreet.  He  contented  himself  with 
making  a  sign  to  his  companion,  who  all  at  once  said  to 
Mdraut,  as  he  rose,  — 


.4  ROYALIST,  35 

"  Well,  it  is  in  behalf  of  the  son  of  that  hero  that  I 
have  come  to  you  with  Father  Alph^e,  an  almoner  in 
the  court  of  Illyria.  Will  you  take  upon  yourself  the 
education  of  the  royalchild ? " 

"You  will  have  neither  a  palace  nor  state  can-iages 
with  us,"  said  Father  Alph^e  sadly,  "nor  the  imperial 

generosity  of  the  court  of  X .     You  will  serve  fallen 

sovereigns,  around  whom  an  exile  of  more  than  a  year, 
which  threatens  to  become  still  longer,  has  brought 
mourning  and  solitude.  Your  ideas  are  ours.  The  king 
had  some  liberal  notions ;  but  he  saw  their  worthlessness 
after  his  fall.  The  queen  —  the  queen  is  sublime.  You 
will  see  her." 

"  When  ?"  asked  the  visionary,  suddenly  seized  once 
more  by  the  fancy  of  making  a  king  by  his  genius,  as  a 
writer  creates  his  book. 

And  at  that  very  moment  they  agreed  upon  the  next 
meeting. 

When  Elysee  M^raut  thought  of  his  childhood,  —  and 
he  thought  of  it  often,  for  the  strongest  impressions  of  his 
life  had  been  received  at  that  time,  —  this  is  what  he 
always  saw :  a  large  room  with  three  windows,  flooded 
with  light,  and  each  filled  with  a  Jacquard  silk-loom  fas- 
tened into  the  window  like  a  rolling  blind,  its  network  of 
meshes  intercepting  the  hght  and  the  view  without,  which 
consisted  of  a  mass  of  roofs  and  houses,  with  staircases 
on  the  outside,  whose  windows  were  all  ornamented  with 
looms  worked  by  two  men  in  shirt-slevees,  whose  alternate 
motions  resembled  those  of  pianists  in  a  duet. 

Between  these  houses  a  few  precious  gardens  climbed 
the  hill,  —  gardens  of  the  South,  parched  and  faded, 
barren  and  stifling,  and  filled  with  coarse  plants  and 
gourd-vines ;    and   where    a  tall  growth  of  broad  sun- 


36  K/NoS  TN  EXILE. 

flowers,  spreading  towards  the  west  with  their  corollas 
reaching  to  the  sunlight,  filled  the  air  with  the  dead  odor 
of  their  ripening  seeds,  —  an  odor  which,  after  thirty 
years,  Elys^e  fancied  he  perceived  whenever  he  thought 
of  his  home. 

The  most  prominent  feature  in  this  neighborhood  — 
crowded  and  humming  like  a  beehive  —  was  the  rocky 
knoll  on  which  stood  some  old  abandoned  windmills  — 
once  the  support  of  the  town,  now  preserved  for  their 
long  service  —  which  stretched  out  their  skeleton  arms 
like  gigantic  broken  antennae,  while  their  stones  were 
loosened,  and  became  the  prey  of  the  sun,  the  wind,  and 
the  corrosive  dust  of  the  South. 

The  whole  bottrgade,  or  the  Enclos  de  Rey  as  they 
also  called  this  part  of  the  neighborhood,  was  and  is  now 
strongly  royalist ;  and  on  the  walls  of  every  shop  was 
found  the  portrait  (in  the  fashion  of  1 840,  with  a  bloated 
pink-and-white  complexion,  long  curly  hair,  pomaded, 
and  having  pretty  dashes  of  light)  of  him  whom  the 
villagers  called  among  themselves  Lou  Goi  (the  lame 
man). 

At  the  home  of  Elys^e's  father,  underneath  this  picture, 
there  was  another  smaller  one,  on  which  a  large  seal  of  red 
wax  stood  out  from  a  sheet  of  blue  letter-paper,  with  the 
words,  "  Fides,  Spes,^^  around  the  cross  of  Saint  Andrew. 
From  where  he  sat  working  his  shuttle,  the  elder  Meraut 
cjjuld  see  the  portrait,  and  read  the  motto,  "Faith, 
Hope ; "  and  his  broad  face  with  its  statuesque  lines,  like 
an  old  medal  struck  off  in  the  reign  of  Antoninus,  having 
the  aquihne  nose  and  rounded  contours  of  the  Bourbons 
whom  he  loved  so  much,  swelled  and  grew  purple  under 
strong  emotion. 

This  Meraut  was  a  terrible  man,  violent  and  despotic ; 


A   ROYALIST.  37 

and  his  voice  was  like  heavy  claps  of  rolling  thunder,  from 
his  habit  of  raising  it  above  the  noise  of  the  loom  and 
the  mob.  His  wife,  on  the  contrary,  was  timid  and  com- 
pletely put  in  the  shade,  never  speaking  at  all ;  being  im- 
bued with  those  traditions  which  make  the  Southern 
women  of  the  old  school  like  Eastern  slaves.  In  this 
home  Elys6e  grew  to  manhood,  being  more  delicately 
brought  up  than  his  two  brothers,  because  he  was  the  last 
child,  and  sickly. 

Instead  of  putting  him  at  the  loom  in  his  eighth  year, 
they  gave  him  a  little  of  the  pleasant  liberty  which  is  so 
necessary  to  childhood,  and  which  he  employed  in  run- 
ning around  the  enclosure  all  day,  and  playing  battle  on 
the  knoll  by  the  windmill  with  white  against  red,  and 
Cathohcs  against  Huguenots.  This  party  hatred  is  still 
seen  in  this  part  of  Languedoc.  The  children  divided 
into  two  parties,  each  choosing  a  mill  whose  crumbhng 
stones  served  them  for  projectiles.  Then  invectives  were 
hurled  at  each  other ;  sling-stones  whistled  through  the 
air;  and  for  hours  they  waged  Homeric  battles,  which 
always  ended  tragically  by  some  bloody  gash  on  a 
ten-year-old  forehead,  or  a  wound  beneath  some  silky 
head  of  hair,  which,  when  received  in  childhood  on  the 
tender  skin,  leaves  a  mark  for  life,  such  a  one  as  Elys^e 
now  showed  on  the  temple  and  in  a  corner  of  his 
lips. 

Oh,  those  windmills  !  How  his  mother  cursed  them 
when  her  little  one  returned  at  nightfall  all  in  tatters  and 
covered  with  blood  !  His  father  scolded  him  for  fonn's 
sake  and  from  habit,  in  order  not  to  get  out  of  practice 
in  using  his  thunder-like  tones ;  but  at  table  he  wished  to 
hear  the  fortunes  of  the  battle  and  the  names  of  the 
combatants. 


38  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

"  Tholozan  !  Tholozan  !  There  are  still  some  of  the 
race.  Ah,  the  beggar  !  I  had  his  father  under  my  gun 
in  1 8 15.     It  were  better  had  I  killed  him." 

And  then  he  told  a  long  story  in  the  rude,  picturesque 
Languedoc  patois,  and  spared  no  phrase  or  syllable  in 
telling  of  the  time  when  he  enrolled  himself  under  the 
Duke  of  Angouleme,  a  great  general  and  a  saint. 

These  recitals,  repeated  a  hundred  times,  though  varied 
according  to  his  father's  mood,  left  as  deep  an  impression 
in  Elys^e's  mind  as  the  cuts  from  the  stones  of  the  mill 
did  on  his  face.  He  lived  in  a  royalist  legend,  in  which 
Saint  Henry  and  the  21st  of  January  were  the  commemo- 
rative dates ;  and  learned  to  venerate  the  martyr-princes 
blessing  the  multitude  with  Episcopal  hands,  and  brave 
princesses  mounting  their  horses  for  the  good  cause, 
and  who  were  persecuted,  betrayed,  and  surprised  in 
the  trap  of  a  fireplace  in  some  old  Breton  hotel.  And 
to  enliven  this  tale  of  sorrow  and  exile,  which  would 
©therwise  have  left  too  gloomy  an  impression  on  the 
mind  of  a  child,  the  story  of  "  The  Chicken  in  the  Pot " 
and  the  song  of  the  "  Vert-Galant "  were  given,  and  filled 
it  with  glorious  souvenirs  and  the  lively  times  of  old 
France,  This  song  of  the  "  Vert-Galant "  was  the  "  Mar- 
seillaise "  in  the  Enclos  de  Rey. 

On  Sundays,  after  vespers,  when  the  table  had  been 
propped  up  Avith  great  difficulty  in  the  steep  httle  garden, 
the  M^raut  family  dined  au  don  de  Pair,  as  they  say  in 
that  region,  in  the  stifling  atmosphere  which  follows  a 
summer's  day,  when  the  heat,  which  has  been  greatest  on 
the  ground  and  on  the  rough  walls,  is  radiated  more 
powerfully,  and  becomes  more  injurious  to  health  than  in 
the  glare  of  the  mid-day  sun.  At  this  hour  the  old  vil- 
lager would  sing  in  a  voice  greatly  admired  by  his  neigh- 


A  ROYALIST.  39 

bors,  "  Long  live  Henry  the  Fourth  !  long  live  the  valiant 
king  !  "  and  everyone  in  the  enclosure  kept  still  to  listen. 
The  only  sounds  to  break  the  silence  were  the  dry  crack- 
ing of  reeds  along  the  walls,  and  the  shrill  whirr  of  some 
belated  grasshopper,  and  the  ancient  royalist  chant  roll- 
ing out  majestically  to  the  measure  of  the  Spanish  dance. 
and  recalling  stiff  bouffants,  shoulder-knots,  and  hooped 
petticoats.     The  refrain  was  sung  in  chorus  :  — 

"  A  la  sante  de  noire  rot,  —  c''est  un  Henri  de  bon  oJoi. 
—  qui  f era  le  Men  de  toi,  de  moi.^'' 

This  "</(?  toi,  de  jnoi,"  in  the  form  of  a  rhythmical 
fugue  greatly  amused  Elysee  and  his  brothers,  who 
pushed  and  nudged  each  other  as  they  sang  it,  which 
brought  upon  them  a  scolding  from  their  father ;  but  the 
song  was  not  interrupted  for  so  small  a  matter,  and  con- 
tinued, through  blows  and  sobs  and  laughter,  like  a  chant 
of  demons  at  the  tomb  of  Paris. 

To  Elysee,  who  always  participated  in  izvsxAy  fetes,  this 
name  of  "king"  had  something  familiar  and  homelike, 
besides  the  prestige  given  it  in  fairy-tales  and  "  histories 
related  to  children." 

This  feeling  was  increased  by  the  mysterious  letters  on 
very  fine  paper  which  came  two  or  three  times  a  year 
from  Frohsdorf  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  enclosure,  and 
contained  autographs  in  fine  ^vriting,  with  big  fingers 
pointing  to  where  the  king  spoke  to  his  people  to  bid 
them  have  patience.  On  these  days  Meraut  would  turn 
his  shuttle  more  gravely  than  usual ;  and  at  evening,  when 
the  doors  were  shut  tight,  he  began  to  read  the  circular, 
which  was  always  the  same  insipid  proclamation  with 
words  as  vague  as  hope  :  — 

"  Frenchmen,  they  deceive  themselves  and  deceive 
you  ! " 


40  A'/.VGS  /A    liXTLE. 

And  then  there  was  the  same  fixed  seal ;  Fides,  Spes. 
Ah,  poor  people  !  it  was  not  faith  or  hope  they  lacked. 

"  When  the  king  returns,  I  shall  buy  a  new  arm-chair," 
said  Meraut.  "  When  the  king  returns,  we  will  change 
the  paper  on  the  room." 

Later,  after  his  journey  to  Frohsdorf,  the  formula  was 
changed. 

"When  I  had  the  honor  of  seeing  the  king,"  he  would 
say  at  every  opportunity. 

The  good  man  had  indeed  accomplished  his  pilgrim- 
age, —  a  real  sacrifice  of  time  and  money  for  the  village 
workman  ;  and  never  a  hadji  returning  from  Mecca  came 
back  so  dazzled.  Yet  the  interview  had  been  very  short. 
The  claimant  said  to  the  worshippers  introduced  to  his 
presence,  "Ah!  is  it  you?"  And  no  one  had  an 
answer  for  this  affable  reception,  —  Meraut  less  than  the 
others ;  for  he  was  choked  by  emotion,  and  his  eyes  were 
so  blurred  with  tears  that  he  could  not  even  see  the  fea- 
tures of  his  idol.  Only,  when  he  was  taking  leave,  the 
Duke  of  Athis,  the  military  secretary,  questioned  him  a 
long  while  about  the  state  of  mind  of  the  people  in 
France ;  and  one  can  imagine  how  much  the  exalted 
weaver,  who  had  never  left  the  Enclos  de  Rey,  could 
answer,  — 

"  But  let  him  come,  the  lucky  rogue  !  Let  our  Henry 
come  quickly,  we  so  pine  to  see  him  !  " 

The  Duke  of  Athis,  delighted  at  this  information  in 
regard  to  the  people's  sentiments,  thanked  him  heartily, 
and  suddenly  asked  him,  — 

"  Have  you  children.  Master  Meraut?  " 

"  I  have  three,  Duke." 

"Boys?" 

"Yes:    three    children,"   repeated   the    old   villager. 


A    ROYAL/ST.  41 

(Among  the  people  in  tliat  region  daughters  were  not 
accounted  children.) 

"  \Vell  !  I  will  make  a  note  of  it.  His  Highness  will 
remember  it  when  the  time  comes." 

Then  the  duke  drew  out  his  note-book,  and  —  era  — 
era. 

This  era,  era,  with  which  the  worthy  man  described  the 
gestures  of  the  protector  writing  the  names  of  M^raut's 
three  sons,  was  invariably  part  of  the  recital  recorded  in 
the  family  annals,  which  were  touching  by  their  accuracy 
in  the  slightest  details. 

After  this,  in  dull  seasons,  when  the  mother  was  fright- 
ened at  seeing  her  husband  grow  old  and  the  little  house- 
hold stock  diminish,  this  era,  era,  formed  part  of  the 
answer  to  the  timid  anxieties  she  expressed  in  regard  to 
the  children's  future  :  — 

"  Make  yourself  easy  now :  the  Duke  of  Athis  made 
a  note  of  them." 

And,  having  become  suddenly  ambitious  for  his  chil- 
dren, the  old  weaver,  who  saw  his  oldest  sons  already 
started,  and  rooted  to  the  narrow  path  he  had  followed, 
l)uilt  all  his  hopes  and  desire  for  grandeur  on  Elys^e. 
He  was  sent  to  Papel's  school,  kept  by  one  of  those 
Spanish  refugees  who  filled  the  southern  towns  after  the 
capitulation  of  Marotto. 

It  was  at  the  end  of  the  butchers'  quarter,  in  a  house 
that  was  dilapidated  and  mouldy,  as  was  plainly  to  be 
seen  by  its  greenish  window-glass,  and  the  lizards  adher- 
ing to  its  walls ;  and  it  stood  in  the  shadow  of  the  cathe- 
dral. 

To  reach  it,  one  must  follow  along  the  row  of  shops 
bristling  with  railings  with  lancelike  points,  from  which 
hung  enormous  quarters  of  meat  surrounded  by  unhealthy 


42  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

swarms  of  flies,  and  a  network  of  narrow  streets  with  the 
pavements  red  and  sticky  with  refuse-matter.  In  after 
life,  when  thinking  of  his  childhood,  it  seemed  to  Elys^e 
as  if  it  had  belonged  to  the  middle  ages  in  the  time  of 
the  ferule  and  knotted  rope  of  a  terrible  fanatic  whose 
Latin  in  ous  alternated,  during  the  recitation  of  his  squalid 
class,  with  the  benedictions  or  harsh  notes  of  neighboring 
bells  falling  on  the  apsis  of  the  old  church,  its  founda- 
tion, stone  foliage,  and  grotesque  gargoyles. 

This  little  Papel  —  who  had  a  very  large,  oily  face, 
shaded  by  a  dirty  white  cloth  cap  drawn  down  over  his 
eyes  to  conceal  a  big,  swollen  blue  vein,  which  divided  his 
forehead  from  the  eyebrows  to  the  roots  of  his  hair  —  re- 
sembled a  dwarf  in  Velasquez'  pictures,  v/ithout  the  brilliant 
tunics  and  the  severe  bronzing  of  time.  He  was  brutal 
withal,  and  cruel,  but  had  a  prodigious  stock  of  ideas 
under  his  broad  skull,  being  a  living,  luminous  encyclo- 
psedia,  closed  in  the  middle  of  the  forehead,  one  would 
have  said,  by  an  obstinate  royahsm,  like  a  clasp,  and 
which  was  well  represented  by  the  abnormal  swelling  of 
the  strange  vein. 

There  was  a  report  in  the  town  that  the  name  of  Papel 
concealed  another  more  famous,  —  that  of  a  ringleader 
under  Don  Carlos,  celebrated  for  his  ferocious  manner  of 
waging  war  and  for  giving  variety  to  death.  Being  so  near 
the  Spanish  frontier,  his  shameful  glory  embarrassed  him, 
and  forced  him  to  live  under  an  anonymous  name.  But 
what  truth  was  there  in  these  stories?  During  the  many 
years  that  Elys^e  passed  near  his  teacher,  M.  Papel, 
although  he  was  his  most  intimate  and  favorite  pupil, 
he  never  heard  the  terrible  dwarf  speak  a  word,  or  saw 
him  receive  a  visit  or  letter,  which  could  confirm  his  sus- 
picions.    Only  when   the   child  became  a  man  and  his 


A    ROYALrST.  43 

Studies  were  ended,  —  the  Enclos  de  Rev  being  found  too 
narrow  a  field  in  which  to  display  his  laurels  and  diplonjas, 
and  to  satisfy  his  father's  ambition,  —  it  was  proposed  to 
send  him  to  Paris.  M.  Papel  gave  him  several  letters  of 
introduction  to  the  chiefs  of  the  Legitimate  party,  —  heavy 
letters,  sealed  with  mysterious  arms,  which  seemed  to 
invest  the  legend  of  the  masked  ringleader  with  truth. 

M^raut  ordered  this  journey ;  for  he  began  to  think 
that  the  king's  return  was  too  long  delayed  :  and  he 
stripped  himself  of  every  thing,  and  sold  his  gold  watch 
and  his  mother's  silver  chain,  and  also  the  vineyard  which 
every  villager  possesses.  And  he  did  this  simply  and 
heroically  for  the  party. 

"  Go  and  look  about  a  bit,  and  see  what  they  are  do- 
ing," he  said  to  his  youngest  son.  "Why  do  they  wait? 
They  should  know  that  the  people  in  this  place  are  weary 
of  waiting." 

Elys^e  M^raut  went  to  Paris  in  his  twentieth  year, 
overflowing  with  exalted  convictions,  in  which  his  father's 
blind  devotion  was  strengthened  by  the  combative  fanat- 
icism of  the  Spaniard.  He  was  received- by  the  party 
like  a  traveller  entering  at  night  a  first-class  car  which 
is  half-way  on  its  journey,  when  each  occupant  has 
settled  himself  in  his  corner  to  sleep.  The  intruder 
comes  in  from  out  of  doors  with  his  blood  stirred  by 
walking  in  the  fresh  air,  and  feeling  a  desire,  which  he 
would  impart  to  others,  to  move  about,  talk,  and  keep 
awake ;  but  finds  that  he  clashes  against  the  ill  humor  of 
people  who  grumble  at  him  from  the  depths  of  their  furs, 
having  been  lulled  into  drowsiness  by  the  rocking  motion 
of  the  train,  and  the  effect  of  the  dim  light  from  the 
lamp  shaded  by  a  little  blue  curtain,  and  who,  in  their 
half-stupid  state,  dread  nothing  so  much  as  draughts 
4 


44  A'INGS  IN  EXILE. 

and  disturbing  invasions.  Such  was  the  aspect  of  the 
Legitimist  clan  under  the  Empire,  travelhng  in  distress  on 
an  abandoned  road. 

This  madman  with  black  eyes  and  a  thin,  lion-like  face, 
who  emphasized  each  syllable  like  a  satirist,  and  each 
period  with  strong  gestures,  was  ready  for  every  thing. 
Possessing  the  spirit  of  a  Suleau  and  the  audacity  of  a 
Cadoudal,  he  caused  the  party  an  astonishment  that  was 
mingled  with  fright ;  for  they  found  him  dangerous  and 
aggressive. 

Under  their  excessive  politeness,  and  the  forced  inter- 
est which  their  good  breeding  made  them  show,  Elys^e, 
with  the  clear-sightedness  pecuHar  to  the  southern  French, 
felt  that  behind  their  enthusiasm  there  was  something 
selfish  and  cringing  about  them.  According  to  them, 
nothing  was  to  be  done  at  present,  but  to  wait,  and,  above 
all,  to  be  calm,  and  to  avoid  being  carried  away  by  im- 
pulse and  youthful  enthusiasm. 

"  Look  at  his  Highness  !  See  what  an  example  he 
gives  us  !  " 

This  advice  recommending  wisdom  and  moderation  was 
quite  in  keeping  with  the  old  hotels  in  the  faubourg,  which 
were  imbedded  in  ivy,  and  shut  off  from  the  sounds  in  the 
street ;  and  behind  their  massive  doors,  heavy  with  the 
weight  of  centuries  and  traditions,  the  inmates  lived  in 
luxury  and  idleness.  Two  or  three  times  Elys^e  was  invited 
through  politeness  to  political  reunions,  which  v/ere  held  in 
great  mystery  and  in  great  fear  in  one  of  these  ancient  nests 
of  malice,  every  kind  of  precaution  being  taken.  There 
he  saw  the  great  names  of  the  wars  of  La  Vendue  and 
the  fusillades  of  Quiberon,  and  all  the  funereal  inscriptions 
in  the  field  of  martyrs,  borne  by  good  old  gentlemen, 
who  were  partly  bald  and  enveloped  in  velvety  folds  of 


A   ROYALIST.  45 

fine  cloth  like  prelates,  and  whose  voices  were  gentle,  but 
always  thick  from  mouthfuls  of  jujube  paste.  They  would 
arrive  with  the  air  of  conspirators,  with  all  the  importance 
of  being  tracked  by  the  police,  who,  in  truth,  amused 
themselves  greatly  at  these  platonic  rendezvous. 

While,  with  heads  shining  like  the  brass  counters,  they 
were  bending  over  a  game  of  whist,  played  beneath  the 
cautious  light  of  tall,  shaded  candles,  some  one  gave  the 
latest  news  from  Frohsdorf ;  and  all  expressed  admiration 
for  the  unwearied  patience  of  the  exiles,  and  encouraged 
each  other  to  imitate  it. 

But,  hush  !  softly  !  They  are  now  repeating  M.  Baren- 
tin's  last  joke  about  the  empress ;  and  again,  on  the  sly, 
humming  the  song,  "  When  Napoleon  —  giving  you  the 
stirrup-strap  —  will  have  cut  your  flanks  unmercifully." 
After  which,  scared  at  their  own  audacity,  the  conspirators 
filed  out  one  by  one,  and  went  creeping  home,  hugging 
the  walls  in  the  broad,  deserted  Rue  de  Varenne,  which 
echoed  their  footsteps  to  their  great  disquietude. 

Elys^e  saw  plainly  that  he  was  too  young  and  too 
active  for  these  ghosts  of  ancient  France.  Besides,  they 
were  then  in  the  height  of  the  imperial  reign ;  and  the 
victorious  eagles,  returning  from  the  wars  in  Italy,  were 
marched  along  the  boulevards  beneath  the  flag-decked 
windows. 

The  son  of  the  villager  soon  learned  that  the  opinions 
held  in  the  Enclos  de  Rey  were  not  shared  everywhere, 
and  that  the  return  of  the  legitimate  king  would  be  de- 
layed longer  than  was  supposed  in  that  region.  His 
loyalty  was  not  affected  by  this ;  but  his  ideas  became 
elevated  and  enlarged,  since  action  was  no  longer  possi- 
ble. He  dreamed  of  writing  a  book,  and  filling  it  with 
his  convictions  and  beliefs,  — Avith  what  agitated  him,  and 


46  KINGS   TX  EXfLE. 

what  he  needed  to  say  and  to  have  known  in  the  great 
Paris  that  he  wished  to  convince.  His  plan  was  made 
at  once,  —  to  earn  his  bread  by  giving  lessons  (pupils 
were  easily  found),  and  to  write  his  book  in  the  intervals, 
which  required  much  more  time. 

Like  all  the  people  in  his  part  of  the  country,  Elys^e 
was  a  man  of  words  and  gestures.  Ideas  only  came  to 
him  when  he  was  standing  on  his  feet,  and  heard  the 
sound  of  his  own  voice,  as  thunder  is  attracted  by  the 
vibrations  of  bells.  Nourished  by  reading,  by  deeds,  and 
constant  meditation,  his  thoughts,  which  flowed  from  his 
lips  in  a  tide  of  words  pouring  forth  one  after  another  in 
musical  eloquence,  left  his  pen  slowly,  drop  by  drop, 
coming  from  a  reservoir  too  vast  for  the  measured  filtra- 
tion of  writing,  with  all  its  niceties.  To  talk  of  his  con- 
victions relieved  him,  since  he  found  no  other  way  of 
giving  them  vent ;  and  he  therefore  spoke  to  the  popottes, 
in  conferences,  and  also  in  cafes,  especially  those  in  the 
Latin  Quarter,  which,  in  the  Paris  that  cowered  under 
the  Second  Empire,  when  books  and  journals  were  sup- 
pressed, were  the  only  places  where  opposition  was 
offered.  Each  saloon  then  had  its  orator,  and  its  great 
man.  They  said,  "  Pesquidoux  of  the  Voltaire  is  very 
powerful ;  but  Larminat  of  the  Procope  is  much  more 
powerful  than  he."  Indeed,  all  the  learned  and  eloquent 
youth  came  there,  repeating  with  greater  spirit  the  fine 
political  and  philosophical  discussions  of  the  beer-shops 
of  Bonn  and  Heidelberg. 

In  this  noisy  and  smoky  forge  of  ideas,  where  men 
shouted  boldly,  and  drank  more  boldly  still,  the  singular 
spirit  of  this  tall  Gascon,  who  was  always  inspired,  who 
did  not  smoke,  and  who  became  intoxicated  without 
drinking ;  whose  rude  and  figurative  language  worked  on 


A   ROYAL/ST.  47 

convictions  as  old-fashioned  as  panniers  and  powder,  and 
as  out  of  place  in  the  surroundings  where  they  were- ex- 
pressed as  are  objects  of  antiquarian  taste  among  Paris 
articles,  —  quickly  gained  him  fame  and  audience.  When 
the  gas  was  blazing  in  the  crowded,  noisy  cafes,  and  his 
tall,  ungainly  figure  appeared  on  the  threshold,  with  its 
haggard-looking,  near-sighted  eyes,  and  hair  tossed  back 
in  his  effort  to  see  plainly,  his  hat  on  the  back  of  his 
head,  and  with  some  book  or  review,  from  which  pro- 
truded an  enormous  paper-cutter,  always  under  his  arm, 
people  would  rise  and  shout,  "  Here  is  M^raut !  "  And 
they  pressed  close  together  to  make  a  place  where 
he  could  move  his  elbows,  and  gesticulate  at  his  ease. 
As  soon  as  he  entered,  the  shouts  and  reception  of  these 
young  people  inspired  him,  in  addition  to  the  heat  and 
gaslight  which  makes  the  head  giddy  and  intoxicated. 
And  on  one  subject  or  another  —  the  newspaper  of  the 
day,  or  the  book  open  under  the  Odeon  as  he  passed  — 
he  burst  forth,  now  sitting,  now  standing,  holding  the 
cafe  with  his  voice,  and  attracting  auditors  around  him 
with  his  gestures. 

The  parties  at  dominos  stopped,  and  the  billiard-play- 
ers in  the  entresol  leaned  over  the  staircase  with  pipes 
between  their  teeth,  and  long  ivory  cues  in  their  hands. 
The  wine-glasses,  beer-mugs,  and  the  saucers  trembled 
as  from  the  passing  of  an  express-wagon ;  and  the  lady 
at  the  counter  said  proudly  to  all  who  entered,  "  Come 
in  quick  !  we  have  M.  M^raut  here."  Ah  !  Pesquidoux 
and  Larminat  might  be  powerful ;  but  he  put  them  into 
the  shade.  He  became  the  orator  of  the  place  ;  and  the 
glory  which  he  did  not  seek  sufificed  him  so  well,  that  he 
clung  to  it  fatally.  Such  was  the  fate  of  more  than  one 
Larminat    at   that   period,    in   whom   fine   powers   were 


48  ICINGS  IN  EXTLE. 

wasted.  They  were  motors  or  levers  letting  off  their 
superfluous  steam  with  great  noise  through  the  neghgence, 
carelessness,  or  poor  guiding  of  the  fly-wheel. 

With  Elys^e  it  was  different.  Being  without  intrigue  or 
ambition,  this  southerner,  who  had  inherited  from  his 
country  nothing  but  her  ardor,  considered  himself  the 
missionary  of  his  faith,  and  showed  the  indefatigable 
proselytism  of  the  missionary,  the  independent  vigorous 
nature,  and  the  disinterestedness  which  makes  light  of  the 
fees  and  prebends,  and  a  life  given  up  to  the  hard  lot 
of  the  vocation. 

After  the  eighteen  years  that  he  had  been  sowing  his 
ideas  among  the  youth  of  Paris,  many  of  them  who  had 
reached  a  high  position,  when  speaking  of  him,  said  dis- 
dainfully, "Ah,  yes  !  M^raut !  an  old  scholar."  But  they 
did  all  they  could  for  their  own  glory  by  gathering  the 
crumbs  the  singular  fellow  carelessly  dropped  from  his 
table.  Elys^e  knew  it ;  and  when,  under  a  great  lord's 
green  coat  with  palm-leaf  figures,  he  again  found  any 
of  his  chimeras  logically  expressed  in  a  fine  academical 
phrase,  he  felt  the  disinterested  happiness  of  a  father  who 
sees  the  daughters  of  his  heart  well  married,  yet  has  no 
right  to  their  affection.  It  was  the  chivalric  self-denial 
of  the  old  weaver  of  the  Enclos  de  Rey,  with  something 
grander  still,  since  he  lacked  confidence  in  success,  —  that 
unfaltering  confidence  which  the  worthy  father  Mdraut 
kept  to  his  last  breath.  The  very  evening  of  his  death  — 
for  he  died  suddenly  of  a  sunstroke,  after  one  of  his 
dinners  au  bon  de  Pair  —  the  old  man  sang  in  his  loud- 
est voice,  "  Long  live  Henry  the  Fourth  ! "  When  he 
was  about  breathing  his  last,  and  his  eyes  were  dim  and 
his  speech  thick,  he  still  said  to  his  wife,  "  Be  easy  about 
the   children  —  Duke  of  Athis  —  made  note" —     And 


A   ROYALIST.  49 

with  his  feeble  hands  the  dying  man  essayed  to  make 
"era,  era"  on  the  sheet  of  his  bed. 

When  Elys^e,  hearing  too  late  of  his  overwhelming 
loss,  reached  home  in  the  morning,  his  father  was  laid 
out,  with  hands  folded,  stiff  and  pallid  in  death,  while  the 
bed  still  awaited  its  new  hangings.  Through  the  shop- 
door,  left  open  for  the  dead  to  pass,  around  which  a 
large  space  was  made,  one  saw  that  the  looms  were  still, 

—  that  of  the  father  abandoned,  like  the  fallen  mast  of  a 
ship  against  which  the  wind  no  longer  blows ;  then  the 
portrait  of  the  king  and  the  red  seal,  which  had  looked 
down  on  this  life  of  labor  and  fidelity;  and  far  above 
the  Enclos  de  Rey,  on  the  hill-top,  one  saw  the  old  wind- 
mills throwing  up  their  arms  to  the  sky  in  an  attitude  of 
despair. 

Never  did  Elys^e  forget  the  spectacle  of  that  serene 
death  which  surprised  the  toiler  at  his  labors,  and  closed 
his  eyes  to  the  familiar  horizon.     He  was  moved  by  envy, 

—  he  who  was  so  filled  with  dreams  and  adventure,  and 
was  the  embodiment  of  all  the  chimerical  illusions  of  the 
fine  old  man  sleeping  there. 

It  was  on  the  return  from  this  sad  journey  that  they 

offered  him  the  place  of  preceptor  at  the  court  of  X . 

We  already  know  his  disappointing  experience.  His  dis- 
comfiture was  so  great ;  the  littleness,  competition,  and 
envious  calumny  with  which  he  was  surrounded,  and  the 
gilded  splendor  of  the  monarchy  seen  from  too  near  a 
point  of  view  in  the  corridors  of  its  palace,  so  saddened 
him,  that,  in  spite  of  his  admiration  for  the  King  of 
Illyria,  when  the  monks  had  gone  and  the  first  fever 
of  enthusiasm  was  over,  he  regretted  having  decided  so 
quickly. 

All  the  disappointments  he  found  there  came  back  to 


50  KINGS  IN  E^ii^E. 

his  memory,  and  he  foresaw  the  sacrifice  to  be  made  of 
his  liberty  and  habits ;  then  his  famous  book,  which  was 
always  in  his  thoughts.  In  short,  after  long  debates  with 
himself,  he  resolved  to  say  no  ;  and  on  Christmas  Eve, 
when  the  time  for  the-  interview  was  approaching,  he 
wrote  to  Father  Melchior  to  acquaint  him  with  his  decis- 
ion.    The  monk  did  not  protest,  but  merely  answered,  — 

"  Meet  me  in  the  Rue  des  Foumeaux  at  this  evening's 
service.     I  still  hope  to  convince  you," 

The  convent  of  the  Franciscans  in  the  Rue  des  Four- 
neaux,  where  Father  Melchior  was  treasurer,  is  one  of  the 
most  curious  and  least-known  buildings  in  Catholic  Paris. 
This  convent,  mother  of  a  celebrated  order,  concealed 
mysteriously  in  the  wretched  faubourg  whose  rumbling 
is  heard  behind  the  Montparnassus  station,  is  also  called 
"The  Commissaryship  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre."  It  is 
there  that  monks  in  foreign  garb,  who  pass  through  this 
dark,  wretched  district  in  their  woollen  travelling-suits, 
bring  for  the  traffic  in  relics  pieces  of  the  true  cross, 
rosaries  of  olive-nuts  from  the  trees  of  the  Garden  of 
Olives,  roses  from  Jericho,  withered  and  fibrous,  suffering 
for  a  drop  of  holy  water,  —  a  miraculous  stock,  converted 
into  beautiful,  silent,  heavy  money,  to  be  carried  in  the 
large  portable  pockets  of  the  hoods,  and  spent  afterwards 
in  Jerusalem  for  the  care  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 

Elysee  had  been  taken  to  the  Rue  des  Foumeaux  by  a 
friend  of  his,  —  a  sculptor,  a  poor  artist  living  in  rooms,  by 
the  name  of  Dreux,  who  had  just  made  a  Saint  Margaret 
d'Ossuna  for  the  convent,  and  brought  as  many  people 
as  possible  to  see  his  statue.  The  place  was  so  curious, 
so  picturesque,  and  so  congenial  to  his  Southern  convic- 
tions, as  it  united  them  —  to  save  them  from  modern 
lucidity  —  to  the  most  remote  centuries  and  countries  of 


'  Tliu)   aic   tne  Queens."     Pa^.^  .J. 


A   ROYALIST.  51 

tradition,  that  he  often  returned  to  it  afterwards,  to  the 
great  joy  of  his  friend  Dreux,  who  was  quite  proud  -of 
the  success  of  his  Margaret. 

On  the  evening  of  the  appointment,  it  was  near  mid- 
night when  Elys^e  Meraut  left  the  noisy  streets  of  the  Latin 
Quarter,  where  the  hot  cook-shops,  decorated  butcher- 
shops  and  open  provision-stores,  beer-shops  attended  by 
women,  students'  lodgings,  and  venders  of  knic-knacs,  of 
the  Rue  Racine  and  "  Boul-Mich,"  gave  out  till  morning 
the  smoking  odor  of  a  universal  feast.  Without  a  change 
of  feehng,  he  entered  the  deserted  avenues  where  the  pas- 
ser-by, whose  shadow  is  shortened  by  the  reflection  of  the 
gas,  seems  to  creep  rather  than  walk.  The  shrill  chimes 
of  the  convents  rang  out  from  behind  their  walls,  bor- 
dered by  skeleton-like  trees ;  and  the  odor  and  rustling 
sound  of  straw,  from  the  stables  where  all  was  asleep, 
came  from  the  large  enclosures  of  the  milk-producers ; 
and,  while  the  broad  street  still  preserved  the  vague  white- 
ness of  the  smooth  snow  that  had  fallen  in  the  day,  the 
villager's  son,  who  walked  along  lost  in  a  dream  of  faith 
and  ardor,  fancied,  that,  among  the  stars  that  glittered 
brightly  with  the  cold,  he  recognized  the  one  that  guided 
the  kings  to  Bethlehem.  On  looking  at  it,  he  remem- 
bered the  Christmas  days  of  the  past,  —  the  beautiful 
Christmas  days  of  his  childhood,  celebrated  in  the  cathe- 
dral,—  and  the  return  through  the  queer  streets  in  the 
butchers'  quarter,  outHned  by  their  roofs  and  the  moon,  to 
the  home-table  in  the  Enclos  de  Rey,  where  the  midnight 
supper  awaited  him  with  the  three  traditional  candles  in 
a  mass  of  green  holly  with  dots  of  scarlet,  the  estcve- 
nons  (little  Christmas  cakes),  and  the  dehciously  smeUing 
pastry  and  fried  bacon.  He  was  so  absorbed  in  these 
memories  of  home-life,  that  the  ragpicker's  lantern  mov- 


52  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

ing  along  the  sidewalk  seemed  to  him  to  be  that  of  his 
father,  who  was  walking  at  the  head  of  the  party  on  his 
return  from  midnight  mass. 

Ah  !  poor  father,  he  would  never  see  him  again  !  And, 
while  he  talked  of  the  past  in  a  low  voice  to  the  shadows 
he  loved,  Elys^e  reached  the  Rue  des  Fourneaux,  which 
was  a  neighborhood  partially  built,  and  lighted  by  a  street- 
lamp,  and  where  were  tall  manufactories  surmounted  by 
straight  chimneys,  with  wooden  palisades,  and  the  walls 
of  which  were  made  of  materials  taken  from  ruins.  The 
wind  blew  with  great  violence  from  the  great  plains  of 
the  suburbs.  From  a  neighboring  abattoir  were  heard  a 
terrified  squealing  and  heavy  blows,  and  a  dead  smell  of 
blood  and  fat  was  perceived.  It  was  there  that  pigs  are 
sacrificed  for  Christmas,  as  in  the  festivals  of  some  Teu- 
tates. 

The  large  gate  of  the  convent,  which  stands  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  street,  was  open ;  and  in  its  court  were  two  or 
three  carriages,  whose  showy  harness  astonished  M^raut. 
Services  had  begun ;  and  strains  from  the  organ  and 
choir  came  from  the  church,  which,  however,  was 
empty,  and  dimly  lighted  by  the  feeble  gUmmer  from  the 
small  lamps  around  the  altar,  and  the  pale  reflections  from 
the  snowy  night  against  the  phantom-like  window-panes. 

The  nave  was  almost  round,  and  adorned  with  large 
red-cross  standards  from  Jerusalem,  which  hung  from 
the  walls,  and  rather  rude  painted  statues,  among  which 
the  Margaret  of  Ossuna,  in  pure  marble,  pitilessly  flagel- 
lated her  white  shoulders ;  for,  as  the  monks  tell  you 
with  a  certain  affectation,  "  Margaret  of  our  order  was  a 
great  sinner." 

The  ceiling  of  painted  wood,  crossed  by  small  beams  ; 
the  high  altar,  under  a  kind  of  dais  sustained  by  columns ; 


A   ROYALIST.  53 

the  choir,  in  a  wainscoted  rotunda  of  empty  stalls,  with  a 
moonbeam  playing  over  the  page  of  the  open  hymn- 
book,  —  were  left  to  the  imagination  ;  for  nothing  was  dis- 
tinct. But  one  descended  by  a  broad  staircase,  concealed 
vmder  the  choir,  to  the  subterranean  church,  where  — 
perhaps  in  memory  of  the  catacombs  —  religious  service 
was  performed.  At  the  end  of  the  cellar,  in  the  white 
masonry  supported  by  large  Roman  pillars,  was  repro- 
duced the  tomb  of  Christ  at  Jerusalem,  its  low  door  and 
narrow  crypt  being  lighted  by  a  number  of  small  sepul- 
chral lamps  in  their  alveoles  of  stone,  which  threw  a  flick- 
ering Hght  on  a  Christ  of  life-size  in  tinted  wax,  the  bright 
red  of  his  bleeding  wounds  showing  through  the  opening 
of  the  shroud. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  cellar,  like  an  odd  antithesis, 
and  embracing  the  whole  Christian  age,  was  displayed  one 
of  those  childish  reproductions  of  the  Nativity,  whose 
manger,  animals,  and  Holy  Child,  surrounded  by  gar- 
lands of  crimped  paper  in  tender  colors  and  leaves,  are 
taken  from  the  legend-casket  every  year,  just  as  they 
originally  came  from  the  brain  of  a  visionary,  though 
perhaps  they  were  then  more  poorly  cut  and  much 
larger.  As  in  those  days,  a  file  of  children  and  old 
women,  longing  for  affection  and  with  a  passion  for  the 
marvellous,  —  the  poor  whom  Jesus  loved,  —  crowded 
around  the  manger ;  and  among  them,  in  the  first  row  of 
the  humble  worshippers,  to  Elys^e's  surprise,  were  two 
men  in  secular  dress  and  two  fine  ladies  in  dark  toilets 
kneehng  low  on  the  flagging,  one  of  them  holding  a  little 
boy,  around  whom  she  clasped  her  arms,  in  an  attitude 
of  protection  and  prayer. 

An  old  woman,  breathless  with  admiration,  said  to  him 
in  a  low  voice,  "  They  are  the  queens." 


■54  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

Elys^e  trembled  ;  then,  approaching,  lie  recognized  the 
delicate  profile  and  aristocratic  bearing  of  Christian  of 
Illyria,  and  near  him  the  dark,  thin  face  and  youthful 
but  bald  forehead  of  the  King  of  Palermo.  Of  the  two 
women  nothing  was  seen  but  the  black  hair  of  one,  and 
the  tawny  hair  of  the  other,  and  that  figure  of  an  impas- 
sioned mother. 

Ah  !  how  well  the  sly  priest  understood  M^raut,  having, 
as  it  were,  arranged  a  meeting  between  the  young  prince 
and  his  future  governor  ! 

These  dethroned  kings  coming  to  render  praise  to 
God,  who  seemed  to  have  hidden  in  that  crypt  to  receive 
them  ;  this  assemblage  of  fallen  royalty  worshipping  in  sor- 
row the  star  of  exile  guiding  these  poor  magicians  to  a 
Bethlehem  in  the  suburbs,  with  empty  hands  and  without 
followers,  —  made  his  heart  swell.  The  child  —  the 
child,  above  all  —  was  such  a  touching  sight,  with  his  little 
head  leaning  over  the  animals  in  the  manger ;  the  curi- 
osity of  his  age  being  tempered  by  the  reserve  of  sorrow. 
And  before  this  brow  of  six  years,  where  the  future 
rested  like  the  butterfly  in  its  white  shell,  he  thought  how 
much  knowledge  and  tender  care  would  be  necessary  to 
make  it  bloom  into  splendor. 


THE   COURT  AT  SAINT  MANDE.  55 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE    COURT    AT   SAINT   MAN^D. 

The  unsettled  state  of  affairs  in  the  Hotel  des  Pyra- 
mides  lasted  just  six  months,  and  trunks  were  but  par- 
tially unpacked.  Bags  were  still  unstrapped,  and  all 
around  were  the  disorder  and  uncertainty  of  an  encamp- 
ment. Every  day  glorious  news  came  from  lUyria.  Torn 
from  her  roots,  and  transplanted  to  a  new  soil,  where  she 
had  neither  past  nor  heroes,  the  republic  did  not  flour- 
ish. The  people  grew  weary  of  it,  and  mourned  their 
sovereigns ;  and,  calculating  on  a  dead  certainty,  the 
exiles  said  to  themselves,  "  Hold  yourselves  in  readiness  : 
it  will  be  to-morrow." 

They  did  not  drive  a  nail  in  the  apartments,  nor  move 
a  single  piece  of  furniture,  without  saying  hopefully,  "  It 
is  not  worth  while." 

However,  the  exile  was  prolonged,  and  the  queen  soon 
felt  that  to  remain  in  the  hotel  among  a  crowd  of  stran- 
gers, like  a  flock  of  birds  of  eveiy  feather  with  wings 
spread  for  a  flight,  would  be  contrary  to  the  dignity  of 
their  rank ;  and  they  therefore  packed  up,  bought  a 
house,  and  moved  into  it.  From  wanderers  they  be- 
came fixed  residents. 

Their  mansion  was  in  Saint  Mand^,  in  the  Avenue  Dau- 
mesnil,  at  the  head  of  the  Rue  Herbillon,  in  the  part  that 
skirts  the  wood  and  is  bordered  by  elegant  houses  with 
fanciful  fences,  affording  a  glimpse  of  gardens  laid  out  in 


56  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

gravelled  paths  ;  and  where  the  circular  terraces  and  Eng- 
lish lawns  give  the  illusion  of  the  Avenue  du  Bois-de- 
Boulogne.  It  was  in  one  of  these  hotels  that  the  King 
and  Queen  of  Palermo,  who  had  not  a  large  fortune,  re- 
tired, avoiding  the  excitement  and  the  luxurious  associa- 
tions of  high  life. 

The  Duchess  of  Malines,  the  sister  of  the  Queen  of 
Palermo,  had  come  to  join  her  at  Saint  Mand6  ;  and  both, 
without  difficulty,  induced  their  cousins  to  come  to  this 
place. 

Besides  the  question  of  friendship,  Fr^d^rique  desired 
to  hold  aloof  from  the  gay  excitement  of  Paris,  to  pro- 
test against  modem  society  and  the  prosperity  of  the 
Republic,  and  to  avoid  the  curiosity  which  is  attached  to 
persons  of  prominence,  which  to  her  seemed  an  insult 
in  her  misfortunes.  The  king  at  first  objected  to  the 
distance  of  the  house  ;  but  he  soon  made  it  a  pretext  for 
his  long  absences  and  late  returns.  Finally,  what  decided 
the  matter  was,  that  it  was  less  expensive  living  there 
than  anywhere  else,  and  their  luxury  could  be  maintained 
with  but  little  cost. 

They  found  themselves  comfortably  situated. 

The  house,  which  was  white,  and  three  stories  high,  and 
flanked  by  two  towers,  had  a  view  of  the  woods  through 
the  trees  in  its  little  park ;  while  on  the  side  towards  the 
Rue  Herbillon,  between  the  servants'  quarters  and  the 
hot-houses  opposite,  a  broad,  gravelled  court  extended 
in  a  circle  as  far  as  the  terrace,  which  was  covered  by 
a  canopy  supported  in  the  manner  of  a  tent  by  two  long, 
inclined  poles. 

There  were  ten  horses  in  the  stable,  —  draught-horses 
and  saddle-horses.  The  queen  rode  every  day.  The 
coachmen  in  livery  with  the  colors  of  lUyria,  with  pow- 


THE   COURT  AT  SAINT  MANDE.  57 

dered  hair  drawn  up  on  the  top  of  their  heads  in  the  form 
of  a  hammer ;  with  a  porter  whose  halberd  and  shoulder- 
belt  of  green  gold  were  as  legendary  at  Saint  Mand6  and 
Vincennes  as  the  wooden  leg  of  the  old  Daumesnil, — 
all  constituted  appointments  that  were  sufficiently  luxu- 
rious and  almost  new. 

It  was  indeed  but  little  more  than  a  year  before  that 
Tom  Levis  had  improvised,  with  all  the  decorations  and 
accessories,  the  princely  stage  on  which  is  to  be  played 
the  historical  drama  we  are  about  to  relate. 

Ah,  Heavens  !  yes  :  Tom  Levis  !  In  spite  of  mistrust 
and  repugnance,  it  was  necessary  to  apply  to  him.  This 
all-important  little  fellow  had  a  most  surprising  tenacity 
and  versatility.  He  had  a  bagful  of  cunning  devices 
with  many  keys  and  picks  to  open  or  force  rebellious 
locks,  to  say  nothing  of  his  many  ways  of  gaining 
the  hearts  of  tradespeople,  valets,  and  chambermaids. 
"Above  all,  no  Tom  Levis,"  they  always  said  at  first ;  but 
then  nothing  went  right.  The  tradespeojDle  did  not  de- 
liver their  goods  in  time,  and  the  servants  rebelled,  until 
the  day  when  the  man  in  the  cab  appeared  with  his  gold 
spectacles  and  charms,  when  the  curtains  hung  down 
from  the  walls  of  themseh^es,  sweeping  the  floors,  and 
knotting  and  forming  into  complicated  folds  as  portieres, 
drapery,  and  thick,  ornamental  hangings.  Fires  burned 
in  stoves,  and  the  camellias  held  their  heads  up  in  the 
greenhouses ;  and  the  owners,  being  quickly  settled, 
had  only  to  enjoy  themselves,  and  sit  in  comfortable 
chairs,  and  await  the  bundles  of  bills  which  arrived  from 
every  comer  of  Paris.  At  the  Rue  Herbillon  it  was  the 
elder  Rosen,  the  head  of  the  domestic  and  mihtary  ser- 
vice, who  received  the  accounts,  paid  for  the  livery,  and 
managed  the  king's  small  income  so  adroitly,  that,  with 


58  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

their  misfortune  relieved  by  this  gilded  frame,  Christian 
and  Fr<^d^rique  still  lived  freely.  Both  being  sovereigns, 
and  the  children  of  kings,  they  did  not  know  the  cost  of 
any  thing,  and  were  accustomed  to  see  themselves  repre- 
sented on  every  gold  piece,  and  to  have  money  coined 
whenever  they  pleased ;  and,  far  from  being  astonished  at 
this  comfort,  they  felt,  on  the  contrary,  all  that  their  new 
existence  lacked,  to  say  nothing  of  the  chilling  void 
around  their  brows,  where  the  lost  crown  had  rested. 

The  house  at  Saint  Mand^,  so  simple  outside,  was 
ornamented  like  a  little  palace  within  to  no  purpose ; 
for  the  queen's  chamber,  with  its  blue  lai?ipas  covered 
with  old  Bruges,  exactly  resembled  that  in  the  castle 
at  Laybach ;  and  the  room  of  the  sovereign  was  also 
identical  with  the  one  he  left,  and  on  the  staircases  were 
copies  of  the  statues  of  the  royal  residence,  and  in  the 
gi-een-house  was  a  warm  cage  for  monkeys  provided  with 
climbing  vines  for  the  favorite  ouistitis}  What  were  all 
these  small  details,  so  delicately  flattering,  to  the  own- 
ers of  four  historical  castles  and  those  summer  resi- 
dences between  the  sky  and  the  lake,  whose  lawns 
extended  to  and  disappeared  beneath  the  waves,  in  the 
green  islands  they  call  "the  gardens  of  the  Adriatic  "? 

At  Saint  Mand(§  the  Adriatic  was  the  little  lake  in  the 
wood  opposite  the  queen's  windows,  which  she  looked 
at  sadly,  as  the  exiled  Andromache  looked  at  her  imagin- 
ary Simois.  Restricted  as  were  their  lives,  it  happened 
that  Christian,  who  was  more  experienced  than  Fr6d6- 
rique,  was  astonished  at  their  comparative  ease. 

"This  Rosen  is  incomprehensible.  I  really  do  not 
know  how  he  manages  to  make  the  little  we  have  suffice 

^  Translator's  Note.  —  The  ouistiti  (a  native  of  Brazil)  is  a  small  striated 
monkey. 


THE   COURT  AT  SAINT  MANDE.  59 

for  every  thing."  Then  he  added  laughingly,  "  But  one 
can  be  sure  that  he  does  not  use  any  of  his  own  money." 

The  fact  is,  that,  in  Illyria,  Rosen  was  synonymous  with 
Harpagon.'  At  Paris  this  reputation  for  closeness  fol- 
lowed the  duke,  and  was  confirmed  by  his  son's  marriage, 
which  was  concluded  in  special  agencies,  and  which  all 
the  prcttiness  of  the  little  Sauvadon  did  not  prevent  from 
being  a  sordid  mesalliance.  However,  Rosen  was  rich. 
The  old  Austrian  officer,  whose  avarice  was  written  on  his 
profile,  which  was  that  of  a  bird  of  prey,  had  not  waged  war 
against  the  Turks  and  Montenegrins  for  glory  alone.  At 
each  campaign  his  baggage-wagons  returned  well  laden  ; 
and  his  magnificent  hotel  at  the  point  of  the  Isle  Saint 
Louis,  very  near  Hotel  Lambert,  overflowed  with  rare 
things,  Oriental  hangings,  mediaeval  furniture  of  the  time 
of  chivalr}',  massive  gold  tryptiques,  sculptures,  reliquaries, 
costly  stuffs  embroidered  and  worked  in  silver,  and  spoils 
from  convents  or  harems,  piled  up  in  a  suite  of  immense  re- 
ception-rooms, which  had  been  opened  but  once,  —  at  the 
time  of  Herbert's  maniage,  when  the  fairy-show  was  paid 
for  by  Uncle  Sauvadon,  —  but  which  since  then  had  been 
locked,  and  were  now  gloomy,  their  treasures  being  pre- 
served behind  the  tightly  drawn  curtains  and  closed  blinds, 
without  fear  of  a  sunbeam  being  so  indiscreet  as  to  enter. 

The  good  man,  confined  in  one  story  of  the  immense 
hotel,  led  the  existence  of  a  monomaniac,  being  contented 
with  two  servants,  a  regimen  of  a  provincial  miser ;  while 
the  vast  kitchens  in  the  basement,  with  their  motionless 
spits  and  their  cold  stoves,  were  also  closed  like  the  gala 
apartments. 

The  arrival  of  his  sovereigns,  the  appointing  of  all  the 
Rosens  to  the  duties  of  the  little  court,  had  somewhat 

1  Translator's  Note.  —  Harpagon,  figuratively  speaking,  means  "  miser." 
5 


6o  KINGS  IN  EX  HE. 

changed  the  old  duke's  habits.  At  first  the  young  people 
had  come  to  live  with  him,  their  home  in  Park  Monceaux 
—  a  true  modern  cage,  with  gilded  bars  —  being  too  far 
from  Vincennes. 

Every  morning  at  nine  o'clock,  no  matter  what  the 
weather,  the  Princess  Colette  was  ready  to  attend  the 
rising  of  the  queen,  and  stepped  into  her  carriage,  and 
seated  herself  by  the  general's  side,  while  the  river  fog, 
which  in  winter  and  summer  mornings  lingered  till  noon 
at  the  point  of  the  island,  fell  like  a  veil  over  the  magic 
beauty  of  the  Seine. 

At  this  hour  Prince  Herbert  tried  to  regain  a  Httle  of 
the  sleep  lost  in  a  hard  night ;  King  Christian  having  to 
make  up  for  ten  years  of  provincial  and  domestic  life,  and 
being  so  httle  able  to  do  without  the  nocturnal  Paris, 
that,  when  the  theatres  and  cafes  were  closed,  he  found 
delight  in  walking  the  deserted  boulevards,  which  sounded 
dry  and  resonant  under  his  feet,  or  shone  with  water, 
while  the  street-lamps  extended  like  a  line  of  fire  into 
dim  perspective. 

They  had  hardly  reached  Saint  Mande,  when  Colette 
went  up  to  the  queen.  The  duke  established  himself  in 
the  paviHon-cottage  adjoining  the  servants'  quarters,  within 
reach  of  the  servants  and  tradespeople.  They  called  this 
the  intendant's  house ;  and  it  was  touching  to  see  this  tall, 
old  man  seated  in  an  arm-chair  covered  with  moleskin, 
among  heaps  of  papers,  classified  and  labelled,  and  green 
pasteboard  boxes,  receiving  and  arranging  little  bills  of 
the  bourgeoisie,  when  he  had  at  the  Residence  a  houseful 
of  decorated  ushers  under  his  orders.  His  avarice  was 
such,  that,  even  when  not  paying  on  his  own  account,  each 
time  that  he  had  to  give  money  every  feature  and  wrinkle 
in  his  face  contracted   nervously,  as   if  they  had   been 


THE   COURT  AT  SAINT  MANDE.  6l 

tightened  with  the  string  of  a  bag ;  his  straight,  stiff  body 
protested,  even  to  the  automatic  gesture  with  which  he 
opened  the  box  on  the  wall.  In  spite  of  this,  he  man- 
aged to  be  always  ready,  with  the  modest  resources  of 
the  princes  of  Illyria,  to  meet  the  inevitable  pillage  in  a 
large  house,  the  charities  of  the  queen,  and  the  liberality 
of  the  king,  and  even  the  pleasures  which  also  formed  part 
of  it  j  for  Christian  11.  kept  his  word,  and  spent  his  hours 
of  exile  gayly.  Constant  at  Parisian  fetes,  received  in  the 
first  clubs,  sought  in  salons,  his  mocking,  delicate  profile, 
familiar  in  the  lively  bustle  of  stage-boxes  or  the  gay 
throng  returning  from  races,  was  now  to  be  seen,  in  the 
medallions  known  by  "  all  Paris,"  between  the  bold  locks 
of  a  fashionable  actress  and  the  haggard  face  of  the  royal 
prince  in  disgrace  who  frequented  the  cafes  in  the  boule- 
vard while  waiting  for  the  hour  of  his  reign  to  strike. 

Christian  led  the  idle,  yet  well-filled  life  of  a  young 
swell.  The  afternoons  were  devoted  to  tennis  or  skating, 
then  the  Bois ;  at  the  close  of  the  day  a  visit  to  a  certain 
boudoir,  which  was  then  the  chic,  and  whose  atmosphere 
of  luxury  and  great  freedom  of  speech  pleased  him ;  in 
the  evening  the  minor  theatres,  dances,  the  club,  and, 
above  all,  gambling  with  cards,  in  which  one  would  see 
him  reveal  his  Bohemian  origin  and  his  passion  for  stak- 
ing his  luck  with  all  the  consequent  hopes  and  fears. 
He  hardly  ever  went  out  with  the  queen,  except  on  Sun- 
day to  take  her  to  the  church  at  Saint  Mande,  and  rarely 
saw  her  except  at  meals.  Her  sensible,  upright  nature 
thinking  always  of  duty,  he  held  in  fear ;  and  her  scornful 
coldness  restrained  him  like  a  visible  conscience  :  for  it 
reminded  him  of  his  burdens  as  a  king,  and  the  ambitions 
he  would  forget ;  and,  too  weak  to  rebel  against  this  si- 
lent power  over  him,  he  preferred  to  lie,  to  avoid  it, 
and  even  to  fly  from  it. 


6  2  A'/NGS  IN  EX/I.E. 

Fr^d^rique,  on  her  part,  so  well  knew  this  ardent, 
effeminate,  vacillating,  and  weak  Slavonian  temperament ; 
she  had  so  often  pardoned  the  errors  of  this  child-man, 
who  retained  every  thing  of  childhood,  —  its  grace,  its 
mirthfulness,  and  even  its  cruel  whims ;  and  had  seen 
him  so  often  on  his  knees  before  her,  after  one  of  his  in- 
discretions, in  which  he  had  staked  her  happiness  and 
dignity,  —  that  she  was  thoroughly  discouraged  with  the 
husband  and  man,  even  if  she  had  any  respect  left  for  the 
king. 

And  this  contest  lasted  almost  ten  years,  although  in 
appearance  the  household  was  very  united.  In  high  life, 
where  one  lives  in  spacious  apartments,  with  a  large 
number  of  servants,  and  surrounded  by  the  ceremony 
which  maintains  distances  and  represses  sentiment,  such 
deceptions  are  possible.     But  exile  would  betray  them. 

Fr^d^rique  at  first  hoped  that  this  hard  trial  would 
ripen  the  king's  reason,  and  awaken  in  him  those  sudden 
impulses  which  create  heroes  and  conquerors.  On  the 
contrary,  she  saw  his  eyes  brighten  with  the  giddy  intox- 
ication of  pleasures,  while  a  diabolic,  phosphorescent 
light  was  kindled  in  them  by  his  stay  in  Paris,  and  by 
opportunities  given  by  his  incognito. 

Ah  !  if  she  had  but  followed  him  in  his  mad  rush 
through  the  Parisian  whirl ;  if  she  had  allowed  her  beauty, 
horses,  and  toilets,  to  be  the  talk,  and,  with  all  a  woman's 
coquetry,  had  lent  herself  to  her  husband's  thoughtless 
vanity,  —  harmony  might  have  been  possible. 

But  she  became  more  the  queen  than  ever,  and  did  not 
renounce  any  of  her  ambitions  and  hopes  ;  but,  far  from 
it,  gave  herself  up  to  the  struggle,  sending  letter  after 
letter  to  friends  at  home  ;  protesting,  conspiring,  and  in- 
forming all  the  courts  of  Europe  of  the  wickedness  of 
their  misfortune. 


THE   COURT  AT  SA/.VT  MANDE.  63 

The  councillor  Boscovich  wrote  from  her  dictation  ; 
and  at  noon,  when  the  king  came  down,  she  herself  pre- 
sented the  papers  to  be  signed. 

He  signed.  Parbleii  /  he  signed  every  thing  she 
wished,  but  with  a  scornful  contraction  at  one  corner  of 
his  lips.  The  cold,  mocking  scepticism  of  the  atmos- 
phere in  which  he  passed  his  time,  had  gained  power  over 
him ;  and  the  illusions  of  his  debut,  through  a  re-action 
peculiar  to  extreme  natures  like  his,  were  followed  by  the 
settled  conviction  that  his  exile  would  be  prolonged  in- 
definitely. Therefore  it  was  with  ennui  and  fatigue  that 
he  listened  to  the  conversations  in  which  Fr^d^rique  tried 
to  work  him  up  to  her  fervor,  looking  into  the  depths  of 
his  eyes  to  find  the  attention  she  could  not  fix.  Absent- 
minded,  and  haunted  by  some  silly  refrain,  his  head  was 
filled  with  the  last  night's  scene  and  the  intoxicating,  lan- 
guishing whirl  of  pleasure.  And  what  an  "  Ouf !  "  of  relief 
he  gave  when  he  finally  escaped  out  of  doors,  and  how 
youthful  and  full  of  life  he  again  became  !  which  always 
left  the  queen  feeling  sadder  and  more  solitary. 

After  the  morning's  correspondence,  and  sending  off 
some  of  the  short,  eloquent  notes,  in  which  she  revived 
fainting  courage  and  hopes,  Fr^d^rique's  only  diversion 
was  to  read  from  her  own  royal  library,  which  was  com- 
posed of  memoirs,  correspondences,  and  chronicles  of 
past  times,  or  of  deep  religious  philosophy;  then  she 
would  play  with  her  child  in  the  garden,  and  take  a  few 
horseback-rides  in  the  woods  at  Vincennes,  and  walks 
that  were  seldom  extended  to  the  line  where  the  last 
echoes  of  the  Parisian  whirl  died  away  on  the  outskirts  in 
the  part  of  the  large  faubourg  where  the  poor  reside ; 
for  Paris  caused  her  antipathy  and  ungovernable  horror. 

About  once  a  month  she  would  ride  out  in  full  livery, 


64  KJNGS  IN  EXILE. 

and  make  a  round  of  visits  among  the  exiled  sovereigns. 
It  was  a  pleasureless  excursion,  from  which  she  returned 
dispirited.  Among  these  royal  misfortunes,  which  were 
properly,  nobly  borne,  she  felt  that  there  was  utter  aban- 
donment and  renunciation ;  that  exile  was  accepted 
patiently  from  habit;  and  that  they  were  led  away  by 
manias,  childish  trifles,  or  even  worse. 

The  most  dignified  and  the  proudest  of  these  fallen 
majesties,  the  King  of  Westphalia,  —  a  poor  blind  old 
man,  who  was  touching  to  behold,  —  with  his  daughter, 
his  blond  Antigone,  maintained  the  pomp  and  outward 
appearance  of  his  rank,  but  occupied  himself  only  in  col- 
lecting snuff-boxes,  and  filling  glass  cases  in  his  salon  with 
curiosities,  —  a  singular  mockery  of  the  infirmity  which 
prevented  him  from  enjoying  his  treasures.  There  was 
the  same  despairing  apathy  with  the  King  of  Palermo, 
owing  to  a  complication  of  troubles,  sorrow,  want  of 
money,  a  disunited  household,  and  ambition  destroyed 
through  the  loss  of  an  only  child.  The  king,  who  was 
almost  always  absent,  left  his  wife  in  her  widowed  and 
exiled  home ;  while  the  Queen  of  Galicia,  who  had  lux- 
urious tastes  and  a  passion  for  pleasure,  did  not  change 
her  wild  ways  when  an  exiled  sovereign. 

The  Duke  of  Palma,  from  time  to  time,  took  down  his 
gun  to  try  and  cross  the  frontier,  from  which  he  was 
often  severely  repelled,  and  again  forced  to  endure  the 
wretched  idleness  of  his  life.  At  heart  he  was  more  of  a 
freebooter  than  a  claimant,  waging  war  for  money  and 
dove,  and  causing  his  poor  duchess  all  the  emotions  of 
the  unhappy  bride  of  a  bandit  of  the  Pyrenees,  whom, 
if  he  stay  out  till  daybreak,  one  brings  home  on  a 
stretcher.  All  these  dethroned  ones  had  but  one  word 
on  their  lips,  and  one  device,  taking  the   place  of  the 


THE   COURT  AT  SAINT  MANDL.  65 

high-sounding  ones  of  their  royal  houses :  "  Why  do 
anything?  Of  what  use  is  it?"  The  most  poUte  re- 
sponded to  Fr^d^rique's  enthusiasm  and  active  fervor 
with  a  smile ;  the  women  answered  by  talking  about  the 
theatre,  rehgion,  gallantry,  or  the  fashions ;  and  gradually 
this  tacit  lowering  of  principle,  this  weakening  of  strength, 
conquered  the  proud  Dalmatian  herself.  Between  the 
king,  who  no  longer  wished  to  be  one,  and  the  poor  little 
Zara,  who  grew  up  so  slowly,  every  thing  seemed  to  be 
failing.  The  old  Rosen  talked  but  little,  shut  up  in  his 
office  all  day.  The  princess  was  only  a  bird,  occupied 
incessantly  in  smoothing  her  plumage.  Boscovich  was  a 
child,  and  the  marchioness  a  simpleton.  There  was  still 
Father  Alphee  ;  but  this  stern,  frowning  monk  would  not 
have  easily  understood  the  emotions  in  the  queen's  soul, 
—  the  doubts  and  fears  that  began  to  possess  her.  The 
weather  also  had  its  influence. 

This  wood  of  Saint  Mande,  —  bright  with  flowers  and 
verdure  in  summer,  deserted  and  calm  as  a  private  park 
during  the  week,  alive  with  the  joyous  sounds  of  the 
people  on  Sunday,  —  as  winter  approached,  wore  all  the 
gloom  of  a  rainy  landscape,  and  of  the  floating  mists  of 
its  lake  ;  having  the  desolate  aspect,  void  of  grandeur,  of 
forsaken  pleasure-resorts.  Flocks  of  ravens  flew  over 
the  dark  bushes,  and  tall,  gnarled  trees,  on  whose  branches 
the  nests  of  the  magpie  swayed  and  the  mistletoe  swung. 

It  was  the  second  winter  that  Fr^d^rique  passed  in 
Paris.  Why  did  it  seem  longer  and  more  gloomy  than 
the  first  ?  Was  it  the  bustle  of  the  hotel,  the  stir  in  the 
lively,  wealthy  city,  that  she  missed  ?  No ;  but,  as  there 
was  less  of  the  queen,  the  weakness  of  the  woman  re- 
turned with  all  the  sorrows  of  a  forsaken  wife,  and  the 
home- sickness  of  a  foreigner  torn  from  her  native  soil. 


66  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

In  a  glass-covered  gallery  adjoining  the  grand  salon, 
of  which  she  had  made  a  little  winter-garden,  —  a  cool  spot, 
far  from  the  noise  of  the  household,  and  adorned  with 
bright  hangings,  and  with  green  plants  in  every  corner, 
—  she  now  remained  for  entire  days  doing  nothing,  and 
looking  out  in  the  hollowed  garden  with  its  tracery  of 
slender  boughs,  through  which  the  gray  horizon  made  a 
patchwork  background,  like  that  of  an  etching,  mingled 
with  the  dark,  solid  mass  of  verdure  which  the  holly  and 
box  preserved  under  the  snow  which  their  sharp  branches 
pierced.  The  sheet  of  water  falling  from  the  three  basins 
of  the  fountain  wore  a  cold,  silvery  hue  ;  and,  beyond  the 
high  fence  along  the  Avenue  Daumesnil,  the  steam-cars 
^ent  screeching  by  from  time  to  time,  breaking  the  silence 
and  the  solitude  of  two  leagues  of  wood,  and  leaving  a 
train  of  smoke  behind,  which  settled  so  heavily  in  the 
murky  air,  that  Fri^d^rique  could  follow  it  a  long  time, 
and  see  it  gradually  fade,  slow  and  aimless  as  her  life. 

It  was  on  a  rainy  winter  morning  that  Elys^e  M^raut 
gave  his  first  lesson  to  the  royal  child  in  the  queen's 
little  retreat,  where  she  gave  herself  up  to  sorrow  and 
dreams,  and  which  on  this  day  had  the  appearance  of  a 
study,  with  books  and  pamphlets  lying  on  the  table,  and 
the  light  streaming  in  as  in  a  studio  or  schoolroom. 
The  mother  wore  a  simple  dress  of  black  cloth,  which 
fitted  closely  to  her  tall  figure,  and  was  seated  near  a 
small  lacquered  work-table  ;  and  master  and  pupil  —  one 
as  much  as  the  other  —  were  embarrassed  at  their  first 
interview. 

The  little  prince  had  a  faint  recollection  of  the  large, 
imposing  face  which  had  been  pointed  out  to  him  on 
Christmas  night  in  the  dim,  religious  light  of  the  chapel, 
and  which  his  imagination,  filled  with  Madame  de  Silvis' 


THE   COURT  AT  SAINT  MANDE.  67 

fairy-tales,  likened  to  the  giant  Robistor  or  the  magician 
Merlin. 

And  Elys^e's  impressions  were  as  fanciful ;  for  in  this 
frail,  precocious,  and  sickly  little  boy,  with  a  forehead  as 
wrinkled  as  if  it  felt  the  weight  of  the  six  hundred  years 
of  his  race,  he  imagined  he  saw  a  pre-ordained  leader  of 
men  and  of  nations,  and  he  said  to  him  in  a  grave  and 
trembling  voice,  — 

"  Your  Highness,  you  will  be  a  king  some  day,  and  you 
must  learn  what  it  is  to  be  a  king.  Listen  to  me,  and 
look  at  me  attentively ;  and,  what  my  lips  do  not  speak 
plainly  enough,  you  will  learn  from  my  eyes." 

Then,  bending  almost  to  the  floor  to  reach  that  little 
intelligence  \vith  fit  words  and  images,  he  explained  to 
him  the  dogma  of  divine  right,  —  that  kings  were  sent 
on  the  earth  by  God  with  a  mission  to  the  people,  and 
charged  with  duties  and  responsibilities  which  other  men 
have  not,  and  which  have  been  imposed  upon  them  since 
childhood. 

That  the  little  prince  understood  perfectly  what  was 
said  to  him  is  hardly  probable ;  but  perhaps  he  may 
have  felt  the  warm,  revivifying  atmosphere  with  which 
gardeners  who  nurture  a  tender  plant  give  life  to  the 
delicate  fibre  and  sickly  bud. 

The  queen,  as  she  leaned  over  her  embroider}',  listened 
in  delighted  surprise  to  the  words  which  she  had  waited 
for  in  despair  for  years,  and  which  responded  to  her  most 
secret  thoughts,  and  gave  them  voice. 

She  had  so  long  dreamed  alone,  and  of  so  many  things 
which  she  could  not  have  spoken,  and  which  Elys^e  put 
into  words  !  From  the  very  first  day,  she  felt  in  his  pres- 
ence as  would  an  unknown  musician,  an  unexpressed 
artist,  before  a  skilful  performer  of  his  work.     Her  vaguest 


68  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

sentiments  about  this  great  idea  of  royalty  took  form, 
and  were  unfolded  grandly,  and  simply  too,  since  a  child 
—  a  mere  child  —  could  almost  understand  them. 

While  she  looked  at  this  man,  whose  noble  features 
were  animated  with  faith  and  elocjucnce.  Christian's  hand- 
some, indolent  face  and  irresolute  smile  rose  before  her  \ 
and  she  seemed  to  hear  the  eternal  "  Of  what  use  ?  "  of 
all  the  dethroned  kings,  and  the  idle  talk  of  princely 
boudoirs.  It  was  this  plebeian,  this  weaver's  son, — 
whose  history  she  knew,  —  who  had  gathered  the  lost 
traditions,  and  preserved  the  relics  and  the  shrine ;  and 
the  sacred  fire,  whose  light  was  visible  on  his  brow  at 
this  moment,  communicated  itself  to  the  ardor  of  his 
speech. 

Ah  !  if  Christian  had  been  like  that,  they  would  still  be 
on  the  throne,  or  have  both  disappeared  under  its  ruins. 

It  was  very  singular  :  observing  Elys^e,  as  she  could  not 
help  doing,  his  face  and  voice  seemed  to  awaken  remem- 
brance. Out  of  what  shadow  of  her  memory  arose  that 
brow  of  genius  ?  and  from  what  secret  recess  of  her  heart 
came  the  accents  which  resounded  in  the  depths  of  her 
being  ? 

Now  the  teacher  began  to  question  his  pupil,  not  about 
what  he  knew,  —  which  was  nothing,  or  but  little,  alas  !  — 
but  to  find  out  what  he  could  be  taught. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  No,  sir,"  were  the  only  words  that  came 
from  the  lips  of  the  little  prince,  who  exerted  all  his 
strength  to  utter  them,  in  the  timid,  pretty  manner  of 
boys  brought  up  by  women,  and  retaining  their  child- 
ishness. 

The  poor  little  fellow  tried,  under  the  mass  of  varied 
information  which  Madame  de  Silvis  had  given  him,  to 
disentangle  a  few  ideas  of  general  history  from  among 


THE   COURT  AT  SAINT  MANDE.  69 

the  adventures  of  dwarfs  and  fairies  glittering  in  his  im- 
agination, which  was  like  a  fairy-theatre.  The  queen 
gave  him  encouraging  looks,  and  tried  to  aid  him  by  her 
sympathy,  as,  when  young  swallows  are  leaving  the  nest, 
the  mother-bird  lends  the  support  of  her  wings  to  the 
youngest  which  cannot  fly. 

When  the  child  hesitated  in  his  answers,  the  bright 
look  in  Fr^d^rique's  blue  eyes  deepened  like  waves  in  a 
storm ;  but,  when  he  happened  to  answer  correctly,  with 
what  a  smile  of  triumph  she  would  turn  to  the  teacher  ! 
For  months  she  had  not  felt  such  perfect  comfort  and 
joy.  Little  Zara's  sad,  dejected  countenance  seemed  to 
her  to  have  new  blood  under  its  waxen  complexion,  and 
even  the  gloomy  landscape  was  brightened  by  the  magic 
of  the  teacher's  words ;  and  Fr^d^rique  saw  in  the  bare, 
wintry  waste  only  what  was  imposing  and  beautiful.  As 
she  sat  leaning  forward  on  her  elbow,  her  thoughts  soared 
into  the  future,  where  she  had  a  vision  of  the  child-king 
returning  in  triumph  to  Laybach. 

Elys^e,  not  knowing  that  he  was  the  cause,  trembled 
with  wonder  at  her  change  of  countenance.  Around  her 
beautiful  pale  brow  he  saw  the  shadow  of  her  heavy 
crown  of  braids  wreathe  itself  in  the  form  of  a  royal 
diadem. 

It  was  noon,  and  the  lesson  still  lasted.  In  the  prin- 
cipal salon,  where  the  little  court  assembled  each  morning 
at  breakfast-time,  the  company  were  beginning  to  whisper, 
and  wonder  that  neither  the  king  nor  queen  made  their 
appearance.  Hunger  and  restlessness,  caused  by  waiting 
for  their  repast,  lent  a  certain  ill  humor  to  the  low-toned 
conversation. 

Boscovich,  who  was  pale  with  cold  and  hunger,  having 
been  stirring  about  in  the  bushes  for  two  hours  to  find 


70  KINGS-  LV  EXILE. 

some  late  flower,  stood  thawing  his  fingers  in  front  of  the 
tall  white-marble  mantel-piece  in  the  form  of  an  altar, 
before  which  Father  Alphde  sometimes  said  private  mass 
on  Sundays. 

The  marchioness,  who  stiff  and  majestic,  in  a  dress 
of  green  velvet,  tragically  sat  on  the  edge  of  a  lounge, 
drew  up  her  head,  and  long,  slender  neck,  which  was 
covered  by  a  boa,  while  talking  confidentially  to  Princess 
Colette.  The  poor  woman  was  in  despair  because  her 
pupil  had  been  taken  from  her,  and  confided  to  the  care 
of  a  vagabond,  —  a  real  vagabond  :  she  saw  him  crossing 
the  court-yard  that  morning. 

"  My  dear,  he  would  have  frightened  you :  his  hair  is 
as  long  as  that,  and  he  looks  like  a  fool.  It  takes  Father 
Alphee  to  find  such  creatures." 

"They  say  he  is  very  learned,"  said  the  princess  ab- 
sently. 

The  marchioness  sprang  up.  "  Very  learned !  very 
learned  !  Does  the  son  of  a  king  need  to  be  stuffed  with 
Greek  and  Latin  like  a  dictionary?  No,  no  !  you  see, 
little  one,  their  education  requires  especial  accomplish- 
ments, and  I  possessed  them.  I  was  fitted  for  it.  1 
have  studied  the  treatise  of  the  Abb6  Diguet  on  "  The 
Education  of  a  Prince."  I  know  by  heart  the  different 
rules  he  gives  for  understanding  men,  and  those  for 
avoiding  flatterers.  There  are  six  of  the  first,  and  seven 
of  the  latter.     Here  they  are  in  order." 

And  she  began  to  repeat  them  to  the  princess,  who  did 
not  listen,  but  sat  dispirited  and  dull  on  cushions,  over 
which  swept  the  long  train  of  her  very  pale-blue  dress, 
made  in  the  fashion  of  the  day,  and  looked  towards  the 
door  which  led  to  the  king's  apartments.  She  seemed  to 
have  magnets  on  the  end  of  her  eyelashes,  and  had  the 


THE    COURT  AT  SAINT  MANDE.  71 

pouting,  disappointed  look  of  a  woman  who  has  made  a 
toilet  for  some  one  who  does  not  come.  The  old 
Duke  de  Rosen,  holding  himself  stiff  and  erect  in  his  but- 
toned-up  coat,  was  walking  up  and  down  with  a  step  like 
that  of  an  automaton,  and  as  regularly  as  the  pendulum 
of  a  clock,  stopping  first  at  one,  then  at  the  other,  of 
the  windows  overlooking  the  garden  or  court-yard.  As 
he  looked  from  under  his  frowning  forehead,  he  had  the 
appearance  of  a  ship's  officer  on  watch  charged  with  the 
responsibility  of  the  conduct  on  deck. 

And  really  the  appearance  of  the  ship  did  him  honor. 
The  red  bricks  of  the  servants'  quarters,  and  the  pavihon 
of  the  intendant's  house,  shone  where  they  were  washed 
by  the  rain  which  beat  down  on  the  clean  piazzas  and 
fine  pebbly  paths. 

The  gloomy  day  seemed  positively  brightened  by  the 
neatness  of  things,  and  to  reflect  light  into  the  large  salon, 
which  was  made  cheerful  by  the  comfort  and  warmth  of 
the  stove,  draperies,  and  the  Louis  XVI.  furniture  in  white 
and  gold,  with  classical  ornaments  reproduced  on  the 
wood-work  of  the  panels  and  looking-glasses.  The  latter 
were  very  large,  and  had  a  little  gilded  dial-clock  fastened 
to  one  of  them  by  ribbon-cords.  In  one  of  the  corners 
of  the  immense  room,  on  an  etagere  of  the  same  period, 
stood  a  glass  box,  in  which  was  kept  the  diadem  saved 
from  the  downfall.  Fr^d^rique  wished  it  to  be  there  as  a 
"reminder,"  she  said.  And  in  spite  of  Christian's  railler- 
ies,—  who  thought  it  rococo,  like  a  treasure  from  the 
museum  of  broken-down  sovereigns,  —  the  splendid 
jewel  of  the  middle  ages,  with  its  sparkling,  precious 
stones  of  embossed  and  open-work  old  gold,  gave  an  air 
of  ancient  chivalry  to  the  coquettishness  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  and  the  diversified  taste  of  our  times. 


72  A'/NGS  IN  EXILE. 

The  rolling  of  a  private  carriage  over  the  gravel 
announced  the  arrival  of  the  aide-de-camp.  Well,  some 
one  had  arrived  at  last. 

'•  How  late  you  come  to  your  duties,  Herbert ! "  said 
the  duke  gravely. 

The  prince,  although  a  tall  young  man,  always  trem- 
bled in  his  father's  presence,  and  blushed,  and  stam- 
mered out  a  few  excuses  :  "  Very  sorry  —  Not  his  fault 
—     Duties  to  perform  all  night." 

"Then  that  is  why  the  king  has  not  come  down  yet," 
said  the  princess,  putting  her  sagacious  little  nose  into  the 
dialogue  between  the  two  men. 

A  severe  look  from  the  duke  silenced  her.  "The 
king's  conduct  was  no  one's  concern,'"  he  said. 

"  Go  up  to  his  Majesty  quickly,  sir  !  He  must  be  wait- 
ing for  you." 

Herbert  obeyed,  after  trying  to  obtain  a  smile  from  his 
dearly  loved  Colette,  whose  ill  humor  was  far  from  being 
calmed  by  his  coming ;  and  she  seated  herself  on  the 
lounge,  and  smoothed  her  pretty,  disordered  curls,  and 
the  blue  dress  which  was  crumpled  by  the  fidgetty  move- 
ments of  her  childish  hand.  Prince  Herbert  had  been 
playing  the  fine  gentleman  for  some  months  ;  and  his  wife 
had  insisted,  that,  as  an  aide-de-camp,  he  must  let  his 
mustache  grow,  which  gave  a  formidable,  martial  expres- 
sion to  his  pleasant  face,  which  was  thin  and  pale  from  late 
hours  and  the  fatigue  of  his  duties  to  the  king.  Besides, 
he  still  limped  a  little,  and  leaned  on  his  cane  as  he 
walked,  like  a  true  hero  of  that  siege  of  Ragusa  of  which 
he  had  just  written  a  memorial,  which  was  famous  before 
it  appeared ;  and  which,  read  by  the  author  one  evening 
at  the  house  of  the  Queen  of  Palermo,  brought  him  a 
brilliant  ovation  and  the  formal  promise  of  a  prize  at 
the  Academy. 


THE   COURT  AT  SAINT  MANDE.  73 

Think  what  a  position  and  what  power  that  gave  Co- 
lette's husband,  who  none  the  less  retained  his  appear- 
ance of  a  simple,  timid,  good  fellow,  especially  in  the 
presence  of  the  princess,  who  continued  to  treat  him 
with  the  most  gracious  scorn.  So  true  is  it  that  no  man 
is  a  hero  to  his  wife. 

"Well,  what  is  it  now?"  she  asked,  in  a  slightly  im- 
pertinent tone,  as  he  returned,  looking  stunned  and  over- 
come. 

"  The  king  has  not  come  home  !  " 

These  few  words  of  Herbert's  produced  the  effect  of 
an  electric  discharge  in  the  salon.  Colette,  who  became 
very  pale,  was  the  first  to  speak,  and  said,  with  tears  in 
her  eyes,  — 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  " 

And  the  duke  added  sharply,  — 

"  Not  come  home  !     Why  was  I  not  told  of  this?  " 

Madame  de  Silvis'  boa  bristled  and  wriggled  convul- 
sively. 

"  I  hope  nothing  has  happened  to  him,"  said  the 
princess,  in  an  unusual  state  of  excitement. 

Herbert  calmed  her  fears,  and  told  her  that  Lebeau, 
the  valet-de-chambre,  had  been  gone  an  hour  with  the 
king's  valise,  and  he  certainly  would  bring  back  news. 

In  the  silence  which  followed,  the  same  anxious 
thought  passed  through  every  one's  mind ;  and  the  Duke 
de  Rosen  suddenly  expressed  it :  — 

"  What  will  the  queen  say?  " 

Boscovich  answered,  in  a  trembling  voice,  — 

"  His  Majesty  told  her  perhaps." 

"I  am  sure  he  did  not,"  affirmed  Colette;  "for  the 
queen  said,  a  moment  ago,  that  she  would  present  the  new 
tutor  to  the  king  at  breakfast."     And  then  she  added  be- 


74  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

tween  her  teeth,  with  a  shiver,  and  loud  enough  to  be 
heard, — 

"  If  I  were  in  her  place,  I  know  what  I  would  do." 

The  duke's  eyes  flashed ;  and  he  turned  round  in  in- 
dignation to  the  little  bourgeoise,  whom  he  could  not  suc- 
ceed in  crushing,  and  was  apparently  about  to  give  her  a 
severe  lesson  on  the  respect  due  a  king,  when  the  queen 
appeared,  followed  by  Elys(^e,  who  led  his  royal  pupil  by 
the  hand. 

All  arose.  Fr^d^rique,  with  a  beautiful,  happy  smile, 
which  had  not  been  seen  on  her  face  for  a  long  time, 
presented  Monsieur  M^raut. 

Oh  !  the  salutation  of  the  marchioness,  mocking  and 
lofty,  which  she  had  been  practising  for  a  week  !  The 
princess  had  not  strength  to  make  even  a  gesture.  From 
pale  she  became  purple  on  recognizing  in  the  new 
teacher  the  strange  tall  youth  who  sat  beside  her  at 
breakfast  at  her  uncle's,  and  who  had  written  Herbert's 
book.  Was  he  there  through  chance  or  some  wicked 
plot  ?  What  disgrace  it  would  bring  on  her  husband,  and 
what  new  ridicule,  if  his  literary  fraud  should  be  found 
out !  She  was  somewhat  relieved  by  Elys^e's  cold  bow, 
who,  however,  must  have  recognized  her. 

"  He  is  a  man  of  wit,"  she  thought.  Unfortunately 
all  was  compromised  by  Herbert's  innocent  frankness, 
and  his  amazement  at  seeing  the  tutor  enter,  and  the 
familiar  shake  of  the  hand  which  he  gave  him,  with  a 
foolish  "  Good-morning  !     How  do  you  do?  " 

"  Then  you  are  acquainted  with  monsieur?  "  asked  the 
queen,  who  knew  the  history  of  "  The  Memorial "  from 
her  chaplain,  and  smiled,  not  without  malice. 

But  she  was  much  too  kind  to  be  long  amused  at 
another's  expense ;  and,  turning  the  subject,  she  said,  — 


THE   COURT  AT  SAINT  MANDE.  75 

"  Really,  the  king  has  forgotten  us.  Please  go  up,  and 
tell  him  we  are  awaiting  him,  Monsieur  de  Rosen." 

The  truth  had  to  be  confessed,  that  the  king  was  not  in 
the  hotel ;  that  he  passed  the  night  out ;  and  they  told 
about  the  valise.  It  was  the  first  time  such  a  thing  had 
happened ;  and  they  expected  an  outburst  from  that 
proud  and  ardent  nature,  especially  as  the  presence  of  a 
stranger  made  the  mortification  greater.  But,  no  :  the 
queen  was  unmoved.  She  simply  said  a  few  words  to 
the  aide-de-camp,  to  ask  what  was  the  latest  moment  that 
he  had  seen  Christian. 

"  About  three  o'clock  in  the  morning.  His  Majesty 
was  going  down  the  boulevard  on  foot,  with  his  Highness 
the  Prince  d'Axel." 

"  Ah,  yes  !  it  is  true.  I  forgot.  They  had  something 
to  say  to  each  other." 

In  these  quiet  words  she  regained  her  calmness ;  but 
no  one  was  deceived.  Every  one  was  acquainted  with 
the  Prince  d'Axel,  and  knew  what  style  of  conversation 
this  degraded  nobleman  and  wicked  high  liver  was  capa- 
ble of. 

"  Come,  let  us  go  to  breakfast !  "  said  Fr^d^rique,  with 
a  queenly  movement,  and  trying  to  inspire  her  little  com- 
pany with  the  calmness  she  forced  herself  to  show. 

She  needed  an  escort  into  the  hall,  and  hesitated,  the 
king  being  absent.  And  all  at  once,  turning  to  the  Count 
of  Zara,  who  followed  this  scene  with  staring  eyes,  and 
with  the  intelligent  look  of  a  precocious  sick  child,  she 
said  to  him,  with  deep,  almost  respectful,  tenderness,  and 
a  serious  smile  that  he  had  never  seen  on  her  face,  — 

"  Come,  sire  ! " 


76  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE   KING    ENJOYS   HIMSELF. 

Three  o'clock  at  night  by  the  Church  of  Saint  Louis 
en  rile.  Wrapped  in  silence  and  darkness,  the  Hotel  de 
Rosen  is  sleeping  under  the  weight  of  its  time-worn 
stone-work  and  its  massive,  arched  doors,  with  an  antique 
knocker ;  and  behind  the  closed  shutters  the  dim  mirrors 
reflect  only  the  sleep  of  centuries,  —  a  sleep  whose 
dreams  seem  to  be  the  faint  paintings  on  the  walls,  while 
the  murmuring  of  a  fountain  near  is  the  quick,  uneven 
breathing.  But  the  deepest  sleep  in  the  hotel  is  that  of 
Prince  Herbert,  who  has  returned  from  his  club,  hardly 
more  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ago,  tired  and  exhausted, 
and  cursing  the  troubled  existence  of  a  fast  man,  that  he 
led  in  spite  of  himself,  and  which  deprived  him  of  what 
he  loved  best,  —  his  wife  and  horses  ;  —  horses,  because 
the  king  took  no  pleasure  in  the  active,  out-of-door  life 
of  a  sportsman ;  his  wife,  because  the  king  and  queen, 
living  lives  so  divided,  saw  each  other  only  at  meals ;  and 
because  both  the  aide-de-camp  and  maid  of  honor,  fol- 
lowing them  in  their  divided  domestic  life,  were  as  much 
apart  as  two  confidants  in  a  tragedy. 

The  princess  left  for  Saint  Mand^  before  her  husband 
awoke  ;  and,  when  he  returned  at  night,  she  was  asleep, 
with  her  door  locked.  And,  if  he  complained,  Colette 
would  answer  him  majestically,  with  a  little  smile  in  the 
comer  of  her  dimples,  "  "We  owe  this  sacrifice  to  oui 
sovereigns." 


THE  KING   ENJOYS  HIMSELF.  77 

And  thus  was  the  loving  Herbert  defeated  and  left 
alone  in  his  large  room  on  the  first  story,  the  ceiling  of 
which  was  four  metres  above  his  head,  with  the  upper 
part  of  its  doors  painted  by  Boucher,  and  with  tall  mir- 
rors set  in  the  wall,  which  reflected  his  image  in  endless 
perspective. 

Sometimes,  however,  when  used  up  as  he  is  this  night, 
Colette's  husband  enjoys  a  certain  selfish  comfort  in 
stretching  himself  out  in  his  bed,  without  having  to  make 
conjugal  explanations,  and  in  resuming  the  effeminate 
habits  of  his  bachelor-life,  with  his  head  wrapped  up  in 
a  large  silk  bandanna,  which  he  never  dared  to  display 
before  the  mocking  eyes  of  his  Parisian  wife. 

The  aide-de-camp,  weary  with  his  night-wanderings,  is 
hardly  in  bed,  with  his  head  on  the  embroidered,  embla- 
zoned pillow,  before  a  trap  opens,  and  he  sinks  into 
depths  of  forgetfulness  and  repose ;  but  he  is  suddenly 
drawn  out  of  it  by  the  painful  sensation  of  a  light  pass- 
ing to  and  fro  before  his  eyes,  and  a  little  sharp  voice 
trying  to  work  its  way  into  his  ear  like  a  corkscrew. 

"Herbert!  Herbert!" 

"  Eh  ?  what  is  it  ?    Who  is  there  ?  " 

"  Heavens  1  be  quiet !     It  is  I,  —  Colette." 

It  was  Colette,  indeed,  standing  before  the  bed  with 
her  peignoir  trimmed  with  lace,  open  at  the  throat,  and 
slashed  at  the  sleeves,  and  her  hair  turned  off  from  her 
face  and  twisted  around  her  head,  and  with  a  nest  of 
blond  frizzle  at  the  back  of  her  neck.  A  small  lantern 
cast  a  milky  glow  over  her,  and  made  her  eyes,  which 
were  enlarged  by  a  solemn  expression,  stand  out  from 
her  face  ;  but  they  suddenly  laughed  at  the  sight  of  the 
scared,  stupid  Herbert,  whose  neckerchief  got  out  of 
place  and  stood  up  in  menacing  points,  while  his  face, 


78  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

with  its  bristling  mustache  staring  out  from  his  night- 
dress, which  resembled  an  archangel's  robe,  looked  like 
that  of  a  bourgeois  rowdy  awakening  fioin  a  bad  dream. 

But  the  princess's  mirth  did  not  last,  liccoming  seri- 
ous, she  places  her  night-lamp  on  a  table  with  the  de- 
cided air  of  a  woman  who  has  come  to  have  a  scene ; 
and  without  considering  the  vague,  half-awake  condition 
of  the  prince,  she  begins,  with  her  arms  crossed  and  her 
two  little  hands  meeting  the  dimples  at  her  elbows,  —7 

"  And  you  think  this  is  the  right  way  to  live,  —  to 
come  in  every  night  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning?  Is 
that  proper  for  a  married  man?  " 

"But,  sweetheart,"  —  he  suddenly  stops,  pulls  off  his 
bandanna,  and  tosses  it  away  hap-hazard,  —  "  it  is  not  my 
fault :  I  would  like  nothing  better  than  to  return  sooner 
to  my  little  Colette,  to  my  darling  wife,  whom  I  "  — 

As  he  said  this,  he  tried  to  draw  towards  him  the 
snowy  peignoir,  whose  whiteness  attracted  him ;  but  he 
was  sharply  repulsed. 

"Really,  it  is  of  no  consequence  in  regard  to  yourself. 
Eh  ?  no  doubt !  People  know  you,  do  they  ?  They  think 
you  a  great  innocent,  incapable  of  the  least —  Well, 
I  wish  it  were  not  as  it  is.  But  the  king,  —  in  his  posi- 
tion !  Think  of  the  scandal  of  such  conduct !  If  he 
were  free,  and  a  bachelor  —  Bachelors  must  amuse 
themselves.  But  then  the  elevation  of  his  rank,  the  dig- 
nity of  exile  "  —  Oh,  to  hear  little  Colette,  who  raises 
herself  on  the  heels  of  her  slippers,  and  talks  about 
the  dignity  of  exile  !  "  But  he  is  married,  and  I  do 
not  understand  how  the  queen  —  That  woman  has  no 
blood  in  her  veins." 

"  Colette  ! " 

"  Yes,  yes  !    I  know  —     You   are  hke  your  father  — 


THE  KING  ENJOYS  HIMSELF.  79 

What  the  queen  does  is  all  right.  Well,  now,  in  my 
opinion,  she  is  as  guilty  as  he.  It  is  she  who  Jaas 
brought  him  to  this,  with  her  indifference  and  her  cold- 
ness." 

"The  queen  is  not  cold  :  she  is  proud." 

"  Ah,  bah  !  Is  one  proud  when  one  loves  ?  If  she 
loved  him,  the  first  night  that  he  spent  away  from  her 
would  have  been  his  last.  One  lectures,  one  threatens, 
one  shows  temper  :  but  one  does  not  preserve  a  cowardly 
silence  before  faults  which  kill.  So  now  the  king  spends 
all  his  nights  on  the  boulevard,  at  the  club,  and  with 
Prince  d'Axel.     God  knows  in  what  company  !  " 

"  Colette  !  Colette  !  " 

But  it  is  not  an  easy  matter  to  stop  Colette  when  once 
she  is  started ;  for  she  has  a  ready  tongue,  like  every 
woman  of  the  bourgeoisie  brought  up  in  this  exciting 
Paris,  where  the  very  dolls  talk. 

"  That  woman  loves  nothing,  I  tell  you,  —  not  even  her 
child.  Otherwise,  would  she  have  confided  him  to  the 
care  of  that  savage?  They  are  wearing  him  out  with 
work,  the  poor  little  fellow  !  It  seems  that  in  his  sleep  at 
night  he  recites  Latin  and  a  heap  of  things :  the  mar- 
chioness told  me  so.  The  queen  is  present  at  every 
lesson.  They  are  both  at  the  child,  so  that  he  may 
reign  !  But  they  \vill  have  killed  him  before  that.  Oh, 
stop  !  don't  say  a  word  about  your  M^raut :  I  detest 
him  ! " 

"  But  he  is  a  good  fellow.  He  might  have  been  very 
disagreeable  to  me,  telUng  the  history  of  that  book ;  but 
he  did  not  breathe  a  word." 

"  Really  !  Well,  I  assure  you,  that,  when  they  congratu- 
lated you  in  the  queen's  presence,  she  wore  a  singular 
smile  as  she  looked  at  you.  But  you  are  so  simple,  my 
poor  Herbert ! " 


8o  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

At  the  sight  of  her  husband's  grieved  face,  which  had 
suddenly  flushed,  while  his  mouth  swelled  with  a  childish 
pout,  the  princess  feared  she  had  gone  too  far,  and  might 
not  obtain  what  she  had  come  to  seek. 

But  how  could  one  be  hard  on  that  young  woman 
sitting  there  on  the  edge  of  the  bed?  —  her  head  partly 
turned  away,  with  a  movement  full  of  coquetry,  which 
displays  her  youthful,  pliant  figure  under  the  laces,  the 
soft  roundness  of  her  throat,  and  the  sly,  provoking  eye 
looking  up  from  under  its  lashes. 

The  prince's  pleasant  face  quickly  became  amiable 
again,  and  began  to  brighten  in  an  extraordinary  manner 
at  the  warm  touch  of  the  little  hand  left  in  his,  and  at 
the  delicate  fragrance  which  pervaded  the  atmosphere 
of  the  woman  he  loved. 

"Ah,  well !  what  did  the  little  Colette  wish  to  know?" 

"  Nothing  of  any  consequence ;  simply  a  little  infor- 
mation about  something.  Has  the  king  mistresses? 
Yes,  or  no?  Is  it  a  passion  for  gambling  which  leads 
him  away,  or  only  the  love  of  pleasure  and  absorbing 
diversions?" 

The  aide-de-camp  hesitates  before  he  answers.  His 
companion  on  every  field  of  battle,  he  fears  that  in  tell- 
ing what  he  knows  he  would  be  betraying  the  professional 
secret.  Yet  this  little  hand  presses  his  so  caressingly, 
so  eagerly,  that  the  aide-de-camp  of  Christian  H.  no 
longer  resists. 

"Well,  yes  :  the  king  has  a  mistress  just  at  present." 

Colette's  little  hand,  which  lay  in  his,  became  damp 
and  cold. 

"And  who  is  she?"  she  asked  in  a  quick,  breathless 
voice. 

"An  actress  in  the  Bouffes,  —  Amy  F^rat." 


THE  KING  ENJOYS  HIMSELF.  8 1 

Colette  was  well  acquainted  with  Amy  F^rat,  and 
thought  her  atrociously  ugly. 

''  Oh  !  "  said  Herbert  in  excuse,  "  his  Majesty  has  had 
nothing  to  do  with  her  for  some  time  !  " 

"  Really?  "  said  Colette,  with  evident  satisfaction. 

Thereupon  Herbert,  delighted  with  his  success,  ven- 
tures to  touch  a  knot  of  satin  ribbon  fluttering  at  the 
throat  of  the  peigjwir,  and  continues  lightly,  — 

"  Yes  :  I  fear  that,  some  day  or  other,  Amy  F^rat  will 
receive  her  ouistitiJ'^ 

"  A  ouistiti  !    What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  Why,  yes  :  I  have  observed  that  all  those  who  know 
the  king  as  intimately  as  I,  find  that,  when  a  liaison  begins 
to  weary  him,  he  sends  one  of  his  ouistitis  with  a  '  P.  P. 
C.,'  —  his  peculiar  way  of  jokingly  deahng  with  one  he 
no  longer  cares  for." 

"  Oh  !  is  that  so? "  cried  the  princess  indignantly. 

"  It  is  the  pure  truth.  At  the  Royal  Club  they  no 
longer  say,  'Turn  off  a  mistress,'  but  'Send  her  one's 
ouistiti.^ " 

He  stops,  put  out  of  countenance  at  seeing  the  princess 
rise  suddenly,  take  her  lantern,  and  walk  straight  away 
from  the  alcove. 

"  Why,  why  !     Colette  !  Colette  !  " 

She  turns  scornfully,  and  says,  in  a  choked  voice,  — 

"  Oh,  I  have  had  enough  of  your  hideous  stories  ! 
They  were  repugnant  at  last." 

And,  lifting  the  curtains,  she  left  the  unhappy  King 
of  the  Swells  amazed,  with  outstretched  arms,  with  his 
heart  excited,  and  ignorant  of  the  wherefore  of  this  un- 
timely visit,  and  this  departure  so  like  a  gust  of  wind. 
With  the  rapid  step  of  an  actress  leaving  the  stage,  and 
holding  her  floating  train  in  a  crumpled  mass  under  hei 


82  AVA'GS  IN  EXILE. 

arm,  Colette  reached  her  room  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
hotel. 

On  a  cushion  of  Oriental  embroidery,  in  a  lolling-chair, 
is  sleeping  the  prettiest  little  beast  in  the  world,  gray  and 
silky,  with  hair  like  feathers,  a  long,  winding  tail,  and 
a  silver  bell  fastened  around  the  neck  by  a  pink  ribbon. 
It  is  a  delightful  little  ouistiti,  which  the  king  sent  her 
several  days  before  in  a  basket  of  Leghorn  straw,  which 
she  received  gratefully  as  a  mark  of  homage.  Ah  !  if  she 
had  known  the  meaning  of  the  present.  In  a  furious  pas- 
sion she  clutches  the  little  beast,  —  a  bundle  of  living  and 
scratching  silk,  from  which  sparkle  two  iiuman  eyes  sud- 
denly awakened, — and  opens  tne  window  looking  on  the 
quay,  and,  with  a  fierce  movement,  cries,  — 

"There  !  you  dirty  beast  i  '• 

The  little  monkey  goes  rolling  down  upon  the  lower 
wharf;  and  it  is  not  he  alone  who  vanishes  and  dies  in 
the  night,  but  a  dream  as  fragile  and  capricious  as  him- 
self, —  that  of  the  poor  little  creature  who  throws  herself 
on  her  bed,  hides  her  head  in  her  pillow,  and  sobs. 

Their  amour  had  lasted  more  than  a  year,  —  an  eternity 
for  this  child  just  emerged  as  a  butterfly.  The  king  had 
but  to  hold  out  his  arms  :  Colette  de  Rosen,  dazzled  and 
fascinated,  fell  into  them.  Till  then  she  had  been  an 
honest  woman,  not  for  love  of  her  husband  or  of  virtue, 
but  because  in  the  brain  of  this  bird  there  was  a  care 
for  the  purity  of  its  feathers  which  kept  it  from  falling  on 
the  muddy  ground,  and  because  she  was  a  true  French- 
v/oman  of  that  race  whom  Moli^re,  long  before  modern 
physiologists,  declared  to  be  without  passion,  and  to  be 
simply  imaginative  and  vain. 

It  was  not  to  Christian,  but  to  the  King  of  Illyria,  tKat 
the  little  Sauvadon  had  given  herself.     She  sacrificed  her- 


THE  KING  ENJOYS  HIMSELF.  83 

self  to  the  royal  diadem,  which,  through  legends,  com- 
monplace and  romantic  reading,  she  saw  like  an  aureole 
above  the  selfish  and  passionate  image  of  her  lover.  She 
pleased  him  while  he  found  her  a  new  plaything  beauti- 
fully colored,  —  a  Parisian  plaything,  which  would  initiate 
him  into  livelier  amusements.  But  she  had  the  bad  taste 
lo  look  seriously  upon  the  position  of  the  "  king's  mis- 
tress." 

The  faces  of  all  those  women  who  had  become  partly 
historical,  and  all  the  paste  from  the  crown  that  to  her 
was  more  brilliant  than  real  jewels,  glittered  in  her  ambi- 
tious dreams.  She  was  not  willing  to  be  the  Dubarry, 
but  the  Chateauroux,  of  this  stranded  Louis  XV.  The 
regaining  of  Illyria,  and  the  conspiracies  she  would  bring 
about  with  the  tip  of  her  fan,  the  surprises,  and  the 
heroic  landing,  became  the  subject  of  all  her  conversa- 
tions with  the  king. 

She  saw  herself  rousing  the  country,  and  hiding  in  har- 
vest fields  and  on  farms,  like  one  of  those  famous  female 
brigands  of  Vendue  whose  adventures  they  were  made 
to  read  at  the  Convent  of  Sacre  Creur.  In  her  imagi- 
nation she  had  already  prepared  for  herself  a  page's  cos- 
tume ;  for  the  costume  of  a  pretty  little  page  of  the  Re- 
naissance, who  would  gain  interviews  with  the  king  every 
hour,  and  who  would  be  his  constant  companion,  always 
played  the  first  part  in  her  plans.  Christian  did  not  like 
these  exalted  reveries  very  much  ;  for  he  quickly  saw  the 
false  and  silly  side  of  them.  Then  he  did  not  take  a 
mistress  to  talk  politics  Avith  ;  and,  when  he  held  her  on 
his  knees,  —  his  little  Colette,  with  her  soft  hands  and 
rosy  face,  —  reports  on  the  recent  resolutions  of  the  diet 
of  Laybach,  or  the  effect  of  the  last  royal  announcement, 
sent  a  shiver  through  his  heart  such  as  is  caused  by  a 


84  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

sudden  change  of  temperatiire,  like  April  frosts  on  the 
bloom  of  an  orchard. 

On  account  of  this,  he  began  to  feel  scruples  and 
remorse,  —  the  complicated,  naive  remorse  of  a  Slavonian 
and  a  Catholic.  His  caprice  being  satisfied,  he  now  felt 
the  hatefulness  of  this  liaison  carried  on  so  near  the 
queen,  almost  under  her  eyes ;  and  the  danger  of  the  hur- 
ried, stealthy  rendezvous  in  hotels,  where  their  incognito 
might  be  betrayed ;  and  the  cruelty  of  deceiving  so  good 
a  creature  as  that  poor  great  devil  of  a  Herbert,  who 
always  talked  of  his  wife  with  unquenchable  affection, 
and  did  not  suspect  that  when  the  king  met  him  at  the 
club  with  a  bright  color,  beaming  eyes,  and  the  look  of  a 
successful  lover,  that  he  had  just  left  Colette.  But  his 
greatest  embarrassment  was  on  account  of  the  Duke  de 
Rosen,  who  held  in  great  contempt  the  principles  of  this 
daughter-in-law,  who  was  not  of  his  caste,  and  felt 
anxious  about  his  son,  who,  he  considered,  was  a  "  cuck- 
old :  "  he  said  the  word  out  plainly,  like  an  old  trooper, 
and  considered  himself  responsible  for  all  this,  since  his 
love  of  money  was  the  cause  of  this  plebeian  mairiage. 
He  watched  Colette,  took  her  out,  and  brought  her  home 
mornings  and  evenings,  and  would  have  followed  her  all 
the  time,  if  the  supple  creature  had  not  constantly  slipped 
from  between  his  clumsy  fingers.  There  was  a  silent 
contest  between  them. 

From  the  window  of  the  intendant's  house,  the  duke, 
seated  at  his  desk,  to  his  displeasure  saw  his  pretty 
daughter-in-law,  in  the  most  lovely  toilets  tliat  she  and 
her  fashionable  dressmaker  could  devise,  wrap  herself  up 
in  her  carriage,  looking  like  a  rose  through  the  frost  on  the 
windows  when  it  was  cold,  or  under  her  fringed  sunshade 
when  the  day  was  bright. 


THE  KING  ENJOYS  HIMSELF.  85 

"Are  you  going  out?"  he  would  ask. 

"To  wait  on  the  queen  "  the  httle  Sauvadon  answered 
triumphantly  from  behind  her  veil ;  and  it  was  true. 

Fr^d^rique  went  very  little  into  the  noisy  part  of  Paris, 
and  gladly  left  all  her  errands  to  her  maid  of  honor,  hav- 
ing never  had  the  vanity  of  giving  her  name  and  title  to  a 
fashionable  shopkeeper  among  a  bowing  crowd  of  attend- 
ants and  curious  women.  Therefore  she  lacked  popu- 
larity. They  never  discussed  the  shade  of  her  eyes  or 
hair  in  a  saloji,  or  the  rather  stiff  majesty  of  her  figure, 
and  her  careless  way  of  wearing  Parisian  fashions. 

One  day,  in  the  morning,  the  duke  found  Colette  so 
really  serious  on  her  departure  from  Saint  Mand^,  and 
her  grisette  face  so  very  excited,  that  from  instinct  (he 
hardly  knew  why,  —  true  hunters  have  these  sudden  intui- 
tions), he  started  after  her,  and  followed  her  a  long 
time  —  a  very  long  time  —  as  far  as  a  famous  restaurant 
on  the  Quai  d'Orsay. 

By  dint  of  her  imagination  and  skill,  the  princess  suc- 
ceeded in  dispensing  with  the  ceremonious  repast  at  the 
queen's  table,  and  went  to  breakfast  with  her  lover  in  a 
private  room.  They  breakfasted  at  the  window,  fi-om 
which  they  had  a  splendid  view :  the  Seine  gilded  by 
the  sunlight ;  the  Tuileries  behind,  —  a  mass  of  stones 
and  trees ;  and,  close  by,  the  masts  of  the  school-ship 
moving  by  the  dark  foliage  on  those  margins  of  the 
quay  where  the  opticians  display  pieces  of  blue  glass. 
The  day  was  just  the  kind  for  a  rendezvous,  —  warm  and 
beautiful,  with  a  lively  northerly  breeze. 

Never  had  Colette  laughed  so  heartily,  and  her  laugh 
was  the  pearly  triumph  of  her  grace  ;  and  Christian,  who 
adored  her  when  she  would  be  the  gay  woman  he  loved, 
enjoyed  the  dainty  breakfast  in  her  company. 


86  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

All  at  once  Colette  saw  her  father-in-law  on  the  side- 
walk opposite  walking  up  and  down  with  a  measured 
step,  and  appearing  determined  to  wait  as  long  as  possi- 
ble, like  a  mounted  sentry,  at  the  door,  which  the  old 
man  knew  was  the  only  exit  from  the  restaurant,  and 
where  he  watched  the  entrance  of  fine  officers  in  epaulets 
coming  directly  from  the  cavalry-barracks  ;  for,  as  a  for- 
mer general  of  the  Austrian  light  infantry,  he  believed 
the  military  irresistible,  and  had  not  a  doubt  that  his 
daughter-in-law  had  some  intrigue  with  spurs  and  sabre- 
taches. 

Colette  and  the  king  felt  great  anxiety,  which  reminded 
one  of  the  embarrassment  of  the  savant  perched  on  the 
palm-tree  at  the  foot  of  which  was  a  crocodile  with  gap- 
ing jaws.  Sure  of  the  discretion  and  incorruptibility  of 
the  servants,  they  knew  at  least  that  the  crocodile  would 
not  come  up  to  them.  But  how  could  they  get  away 
from  the  place  ?  The  king  could  remain  ;  for  he  had 
time  to  wear  out  the  patience  of  the  animal.  But  Co- 
lette !  The  queen  would  be  expecting  her,  and  perhaps 
unite  her  suspicions  to  those  of  the  old  man  Rosen.  The 
proprietor,  whom  Christian  sent  for  and  acquainted  with 
the  situation,  tried  every  thing,  but  found  no  other  way 
to  escape  than  to  break  through  the  wall  of  the  next 
house,  as  in  the  time  of  revolution ;  but  he  afterwards 
thought  of  a  more  simple  expedient.  The  princess  could 
put  on  the  suit  of  a  baker's  boy,  and  stow  away  her  dress 
and  petticoats  in  the  basket  which  she  could  carry  on  her 
head,  and  dress  herself  in  her  own  clothing  at  the  house 
of  the  barmaid  in  the  next  street. 

Colette  objected  to  this  at  first,  —  to  appear  like  a  scul- 
lion before  the  king  !  but  she  was  obliged  to  submit,  or 
run  the  risk  of  the   direst  catastrophe ;  and  the  freshly 


THE  KING   ENJOYS  HIMSELF.  87 

ironed  suit  of  a  lad  of  fourteen  years  made  the  Princess 
de  Rosen  {nee  Sauvadon)  the  prettiest  and  most  coquet- 
tish kitchen-waiter  that  runs  about  the  streets  of  Paris  at 
lunch-time. 

But  the  white  linen  cap,  the  child's  shoes  in  which  her 
feet  danced  about,  and  the  vest  in  whose  pockets  rattled 
the  pennies  received  as  fees,  were  far  from  resembling  the 
costume  of  an  heroic  page,  with  a  pearl-handled  dagger 
and  high  boots,  which  she  was  ambitious  to  wear  as  she 
followed  her  Lara. 

The  old  duke  saw  without  mistrust  two  bakers'  boys 
pass  him,  bearing  on  their  heads  baskets,  from  which 
escaped  a  pleasant  odor  of  warm  pastry,  which  gave  him 
cruel  pangs  of  hunger  :   he  was  fasting,  the  poor  man  ! 

Above,  the  imprisoned  king,  relieved  of  a  great  weight 
of  anxiety,  was  reading,  smoking,  and  drinking  his  Roe- 
derer,  and  peeped  out  from  behind  a  corner  of  the  cur- 
tain, from  time  to  time,  to  see  if  the  crocodile  was  still 
there. 

That  evening,  when  the  elder  Rosen  returned  to  Saint 
Mand6,  the  princess  received  him  with  the  most  ingenu- 
ous smile.  He  was  aware  that  a  trick  had  been  played 
upon  him,  but  did  not  breathe  a  word  about  the  adven- 
ture. It  got  abroad  nevertheless.  Who  knows  through 
what  cracks  of  a  salon  or  anteroom,  through  what  low- 
ered window  of  a  coupe,  or  by  what  echo  reflected  from 
a  hollow  wall  to  silent  doors,  a  scandal  spreads  about 
Paris  till  it  reaches  full  daylight,  or  rather  the  first  page 
of  the  book  of  the  world,  and  from  it  speaks  to  the 
crowd,  enters  millions  of  ears,  and  becomes  the  public 
shame,  after  having  been  the  amusing  anecdote  of  a 
club  ?  For  a  week  all  Paris  made  sport  of  the  story  of 
the   Uttle   baker-boy.     The  names,  whispered  as  low  as 


88  KINGS  FN  EXILE. 

is  possible  in  the  case  of  so  great  ones,  did  not  penetrate 
Herbert's  thick  skin.  But  the  queen  had  a  suspicion  of 
the  adventure  ;  for,  after  a  terrible  explanation  they  had 
at  Laybach,  she  never  reproached  the  king  with  his  con- 
duct, but  took  him  aside  some  days  later  as  they  were 
leaving  the  table. 

"  People  are  talking  a  great  deal,"  she  said  gravely, 
without  looking  at  him,  "  of  a  scandalous  story  in  which 
your  name  is  mixed  up.  Oh,  do  not  defend  yourself ! 
I  do  not  wish  to  hear  any  more.  Only  think  of  this 
which  is  intrusted  to  your  keeping."  She  pointed  to 
the  crown,  whose  radiance  was  veiled  in  its  crystal  box. 
"  Take  care  lest  shame  or  ridicule  fall  on  it ;  for  your  son 
must  Wear  it." 

Did  she  know  all  about  the  adventure  ?  Could  she  give 
the  right  name  to  the  woman  who  was  half  betrayed  by 
slander?  Fr^d^rique  was  so  strong,  so  thoroughly  self- 
possessed,  that  no  one  around  her  could  tell.  But  Chris- 
tian felt  that  she  knew ;  and  his  fear  of  scenes  and  stories, 
the  necessity  of  his  weak  nature  to  be  surrounded  by 
smiles  to  respond  to  his  own  perpetual  light-hearted  one, 
made  him  resolve  to  take  the  prettiest  and  the  most  cun- 
ning of  his  ouistitis  from  its  cage,  and  offer  it  to  Princess 
Colette. 

She  wrote  to  him  after  receiving  his  gift :  but  he  did 
not  answer,  feigned  not  to  understand  her  sighs  or 
mournful  attitudes,  and  continued  to  talk  to  her  with  the 
airy  politeness  which  women  loved  in  him ;  and  relieved 
of  the  weight  of  remorse  which  had  grown  heavier  as  his 
fancy  died  away,  and  followed  by  no  more  tyrannical  affec- 
tion than  that  of  his  wife,  he  threw  himself  unrestrained 
into  the  vortex  of  pleasure  ;  and,  to  use  the  hideous,  weak, 
current  language  of  the  fast  men,  his  only  thought  was 


THE  KING   ENJOYS  HIMSELF.  89 

how  he  could  "/aire  la  fete."  That  was  the  fashion- 
able term  in  the  clubs  that  year.  There  is  probaibly 
another  one  now.  Words  change ;  but  the  famous  res- 
taurants where  these  things  take  place  remain  unchange- 
able and  monotonous,  —  the  gilded  and  garlanded  saloons 
where  fast  women  display  themselves,  and  receive ;  and 
where  enervating,  commonplace  pleasures  are  degraded 
to  an  orgie,  without  power  to  give  enjoyment  again. 
What  does  not  change  is  the  classic  stupidity  of  the 
crowd  of  fast  men  and  women ;  their  stereotyped  slang 
and  laugh,  without  a  gleam  of  fancy  finding  its  way  into 
this  world,  which,  under  its  appearance  of  folly,  is  as 
bourgeois  and  conventional  as  the  other.  It  is  orderly 
disorder,  fancies  according  to  programme,  and,  at  the 
bottom  of  it  all,  ennui,  —  nothing  but  yawning,  fettered 
e?inui. 

The  king,  however,  sought  pleasure  with  the  ardor  of 
a  twenty-year-old  youth.  He  brought  to  it  that  longing 
to  run  away  by  himself  which  led  him  to  Mabille  the 
very  evening  of  his  arrival,  and  satisfied  his  desires,  which 
had  long  been  sharpened  by  reading  certain  Parisian 
journals,  which  daily  give  the  appetizing  menu  of  gay 
life  through  plays  and  romances  which  relate  and  ideal- 
ize it  for  provincials  and  foreigners.  His  liaison  with 
Madame  de  Rosen  stopped  him  some  time  on  the  brink 
of  easy  pleasure,  which  resembles  the  small  stairs  in 
night-restaurants,  which,  flooded  with  light  and  well-car- 
peted at  the  top,  descend  step  by  step  in  the  first  stages 
of  intoxication,  are  rendered  steeper  at  the  foot  by  the 
fresh  air  from  the  open  doors,  and  which  lead  straight  to 
the  gutter  at  the  uncertain  hour  when  scavengers  and 
porters  are  around.  Christian  abandoned  himself  now  to 
this  descent,  to  this  fall ;  and  what  encouraged  and  in- 


90  KINGS   IN  EXILE. 

toxicated  him  more  than  the  wines  at  dessert  was  the 
little  court  and  clan  of  broken-down  noblemen  lying  in 
wait  for  royal  dupes  which  surrounded  him ;  of  fast 
journalists,  whose  paid  reports  amused  him,  and  who, 
feeling  proud  of  their  intimacy  with  the  illustrious  exile, 
led  him  into  the  green-rooms  of  theatres,  where  women 
had  eyes  only  for  him,  sparkling  and  alluring,  and 
blushed  with  confusion  under  the  paint  on  their  enam- 
elled cheeks. 

Quick  to  take  to  the  language  of  the  boulevards  with 
its  ways,  fashions,  exaggerations,  and  caprices,  he  kept  say- 
ing, like  a  perfect  swell,  "  Chic,  tres  chic !  Cest  infect! 
On  se  tord!  "  But  he  said  it  less  vulgarly,  owing  to  his 
foreign  accent,  which  relieved  the  slang,  and  gave  it  Bo- 
hemian point.  One  word  he  was  particularly  fond  of,  — 
"  Jiigo/o."  He  used  it  on  every  occasion  to  express  his 
opinion  of  every  thing.  Plays,  romances,  public  or  pri- 
vate events,  they  were,  or  were  not,  rigolo.  That  saved 
his  Majesty  from  the  necessity  of  reasoning.  After  sup- 
per one  night.  Amy  F^rat,  who  was  intoxicated,  and  whom 
this  word  irritated,  cried  out,  "  Hallo  !  say  Rigolo."  This 
familiarity  pleased  him.  Th.'s  one  at  least  did  not  treat 
him  as  a  king.  He  made  her  his  mistress ;  and,  long 
after  his  liaison  with  the  actress  was  over,  the  surname 
remained,  like  that  of  "  Queue  de  Poule  "  given  to  Prince 
d'Axel  no  one  knew  why. 

Rigolo  and  Queue  de  Poule,  who  had  become  friends, 
were  constantly  together,  and  hunted  their  game  in  com- 
pany, uniting  their  quite  similar  destinies  even  in  bou- 
doirs ;  the  disgrace  of  the  hereditary  prince  constituting 
a  true  exile.  He  passed  it  as  pleasantly  as  he  could, 
and  for  ten  years  had  been  dissipating  in  all  the  public- 
houses  on  the  boulevard  with  the  high  spirits  of  .an 
undertaker. 


THE  KING  ENJOYS  HIMSELF.  9 1 

The  King  of  Illyria  had  his  apartments  in  the  Hotel 
d'Axel  on  the  Champs  Elys^es.  He  at  first  slept  there 
occasionally,  but  soon  more  frequently  than  at  Saint 
Mand6.  These  explained  absences,  apparently  necessary, 
left  the  queen  perfectly  calm,  but  threw  the  princess  into 
deep  chagrin.  No  doubt  her  wounded  pride  hoped  to 
again  capture  this  fickle  heart.  She  employed  a  thou- 
sand coquettish  inventions,  new  adornments  and  head- 
dresses, and  combinations  of  cuts  and  shades  in  her  dress, 
which  harmonized  with  her  changeful  beauty. 

But  what  disappointment  for  her  when  the  clock  struck 
seven  at  evening,  and  the  king  did  not  appear ;  and  when 
Fr^d^rique,  who  was  imperturbably  serene,  after  saying, 
"  His  Majesty  is  not  coming  to  dinner,"  would  place 
the  high  chair  of  little  Zara  in  the  place  of  honor  ! 

The  nervous  Colette,  who  was  obliged  to  be  silent  and 
hide  her  displeasure,  would  have  liked  an  outburst  from 
the  queen,  which  would  have  avenged  them  both ;  but 
Fr^d^rique,  who  was  but  little  paler,  preserved  her  royal 
calmness,  even  when  the  princess,  with  cruel  feminine 
cunning,  and  insinuations  cunningly  introduced,  tried  to 
make  revelations  about  the  Paris  clubs,  the  coarse  con- 
versations among  men,  the  still  grosser  pleasure  which 
they  found  in  irregular  habits  and  pleasures  outside  of 
home  ;  and  about  the  fast  parties,  and  fortunes  crumbling 
away  in  the  card-castles  of  the  gambling-table,  and  the 
eccentric  wagers  recorded  in  a  private  book,  whose  pages 
were  curious  to  read,  —  the  golden  leaves  of  sin.  But  her 
efforts  were  wasted :  the  queen  was  not  moved  by  these 
tormenting  spurs,  and  did  not  or  would  not  understand. 

She  betrayed  herself  once  in  the  morning,  in  the  wood 
at  Saint  Mand^,  during  a  ride  on  horseback. 

It  was  a  sharp,  chilly  day  in  March ;  and  the  wind,  stir- 
7 


92  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

ring  the  waters  of  the  lake,  drove  them  in  ripples  to  the 
banks,  which  were  still  frozen  and  flowerless.  A  few  birds 
were  peeping  through  the  denuded  copse-wood,  where 
remained  red  winter  berries  ;  and  the  horses,  filing  side  by 
side  up  a  path  that  was  filled  with  dead  branches,  made 
them  crackle  with  a  sound  like  that  of  new  leather, 
which,  with  the  rattle  of  their  curb-chains,  broke  the 
silence  of  the  deserted  wood. 

The  two  women,  equally  good  riders,  went  on  slowly, 
absorbed  by  the  calm  of  an  intermediary  season,  when  a 
change  is  about  to  take  place  in  the  sky  that  is  full  of 
rain,  and  the  earth  that  is  still  black  under  late  snow. 

Colette,  however,  every  time  that  she  found  herself 
alone  with  the  queen,  soon  entered  upon  her  favorite 
subject.  She  dared  not  attack  the  king  directly ;  but 
she  made  up  for  it  by  talking  about  those  around  him,  — 
the  noblemen  of  the  Royal  Club,  —  all  of  whom  she  knew 
through  Herbert  and  "The  Paris  Chronicle,"  and  whom, 
—  the  Prince  d'Axel  before  all  —  she  set  off  with  the  skill 
of  an  artist.  Really,  she  could  not  see  how  one  could 
keep  company  with  such  a  man,  who  spent  his  life  in  gam- 
bling and  feasting,  who  took  pleasure  only  in  bad  com- 
pany, and  sat  in  the  boulevard  at  evening  by  the  side  of 
some  low  character,  drinking  like  a  coachman  with  the 
first  comer,  and  saying  "  thou  "  to  low  comedians.  And 
to  think  he  was  the  hereditary  prince,  and  delighted  in 
degrading  and  sullying  royalty  in  his  person. 

She  went  on  and  on  with  fire  and  anger ;  while  the 
queen,  who  was  purposely  absent-minded,  and  looked  as 
if  she  did  not  hear,  patted  her  horse's  neck,  and  urged 
him  on  a  little,  as  if  to  escape  the  stories  of  her  maid  of 
honor.     But  Colette  kept  at  the  same  pace. 

"  Besides,  there  is  some  excuse  for  Prince  d'Axel :  he 


\ 


THE  KING  ENJOYS  HIMSELF.  93 

resembles  his  uncle,  —  a  king  who  keeps  his  mistresses 
with  such  impudence  before  his  court  and  his  .  wife. 
One  wonders  what  kind  of  sacrificing,  slavish  nature  a 
queen  can  have  who  permits  such  outrages." 

This  time  the  blow  struck  home  ;  and  Fr6d6rique,  with 
veiled  eyes  and  trembling,  showed  on  her  features,  which 
grew  hollow  in  a  moment,  an  expression  so  sad  and  aged, 
that  Colette  felt  touched  on  seeing  the  proud  sovereign, 
whose  heart  she  had  never  been  able  to  wound,  descend 
to  the  level  of  womanly  suffering.  But  she  soon  recov- 
ered her  pride. 

"  She  whom  you  speak  of  is  a  queen,"  she  said  earn- 
estly, "and  it  would  be  a  great  injustice  to  judge  her  as 
you  would  other  women,  who  can  be  happy  or  unhappy 
openly,  and  shed  all  their  tears,  and  cry  out  if  the  pain  is 
too  great.  But  queens,  whether  theirs  be  the  sorrow  of 
wife  or  mother,  must  conceal  and  stifle  all.  Can  a  queen 
run  away  when  she  is  wronged?  Can  she  plead  for  a 
separation,  and  give  that  joy  to  the  enemies  of  the  throne  ? 
No  ;  at  the  risk  of  appearing  cruel,  blind,  and  indifferent, 
she  must  hold  her  head  erect  to  wear  her  crown.  And 
it  is  not  vain  pride,  but  the  true  feeling  of  our  lofty 
position,  which  sustains  us.  It  is  that  which  makes  us 
ride  out  in  an  open  carriage  between  husband  and  child, 
with  threats  in  the  air  of  a  conspiracy,  and  shots  that  may 
be  fired  at  us ;  it  is  that  which  makes  this  exile  and 
leaden  sky  less  heavy,  and  also  gives  us  strength  to 
endure  certain  cruel  affronts,  of  which  you  should  be  the 
last  to  speak  to  me.  Princess  de  Rosen." 

She  became  animated  as  she  spoke,  and  hurried  to  fin- 
ish, then  whipped  up  her  horse  with  a  vigorous  "  Hep  !  " 
which  sent  him  through  the  Bois,  like  the  wind,  in  a  mad, 
dizzy  flight,  making  her  blue  veil  flap,  and  the  folds  of  her 
riding-dress  rustle. 


94  KINGS  IN  EXrr.E. 

After  this,  Colette  left  the  queen  in  peace  :  but  as  she 
needed  a  distraction  for  her  nerves,  and  some  relief,  she 
turned  her  anger  and  attacks  on  Elys^e,  and  placed  her- 
self on  the  marcliioness's  side  ;  for  the  royal  house  was 
divided  into  two  factions.  Elys6e  usually  had  no  one  on 
his  side  but  Father  Alph6e,  whose  rude  speech  and  rea:dy 
wit  were  a  great  support ;  but  the  monk  made  frequent 
visits  to  Illyria,  being  charged  with  missions  between  the 
mother  convent  in  the  Rue  des  Fourneaux  and  the  Fran- 
ciscan convents  of  Zara  and  Ragusa.  At  least  this  was 
the  pretext  for  his  absences,  which  were  accompanied  by 
the  greatest  mystery,  and  from  which  he  returned  more 
ardent  than  ever,  climbing  the  stairs  with  furious  strides, 
rolling  his  rosary  between  his  fingers,  and  mumbling  a 
prayer  between  his  teeth. 

He  shut  himself  up  with  the  queen  for  hours  ;  then,  after 
two  or  three  days'  rest,  he  would  go  off  again,  leaving  all 
the  marchioness's  coterie  boldly  leagued  against  the  tutor. 
From  the  old  duke,  whose  military  discipline  and  social 
ideas  were  shocked  by  M^raut's  careless  dress  and  rum- 
pled hair,  to  Lebeau  the  valet-de-chamhre,  the  instinc- 
tive enemy  of  independence,  and  to  the  most  humble 
groom  or  kitchen-boy  of  Monsieur  Lebeau,  and  also  to 
the  inoffensive  Boscovich,  who  did  like  the  others  from 
his  own  weakness  and  respect  for  numbers,  there  was  a 
complete  coalition  against  the  new  teacher.  It  was  man- 
ifested less  by  acts  than  by  words,  looks,  and  attitudes  in 
the  little  nervous  skirmishes  which  every-day  life  brings 
between  people  who  detest  each  other.  Oh,  the  atti- 
tudes which  were  a  specialty  with  Madame  de  Silvis  ! 
Disdainful,  haughty,  ironical,  and  bitter,  she  made  her 
features  expressive  before  Elys^e,  and  succeeded  in 
patiently  assuming  a  kind  of  respectful  pity,  and  stifled 


THE  KING   ENJOYS  HIMSELF.  95 

sighs,  and  cast  pale  glances  at  the  ceiling  every  time  she 
found  herself  with  the  little  prince.  "  Are  you  not  suffer- 
ing, your  Highness?"  And  she  would  feel  of  his  long, 
slender  fingers,  making  him  feel  languid  by  trembling 
caresses.    Then  the  queen  would  say,  in  a  joyous  voice,  — 

"  Come,  come.  Marchioness  !  you  would  make  Zara 
think  he  is  ill." 

"  I  find  his  hands  and  forehead  rather  warm." 

"  He  has  just  come  in  from  out  of  doors.  It  is  the 
fresh  air." 

The  queen  carried  away  the  child,  and  felt  troubled  by 
the  remarks  made  in  her  presence,  —  the  talk  of  the  house 
that  they  were  making  his  Highness  work  too  much,  and 
which  the  Parisian  servants  repeated  without  believing  it, 
but  which  was  taken  seriously  by  those  brought  from 
Illyria,  —  the  great  Petscha  and  old  Greb,  —  who  looked 
threateningly  at  M^raut,  and  hectored  him  with  that 
silent  expression  of  disgust  with  service  which  is  so  easy 
to  practise  against  dependants  and  absent-minded  men. 

Elys^e  again  found  the  persecutions,  littleness,  and  jeal- 
ousies of  the  Palace  of  X ;  the  same  grumbling  of 

servile  souls  around  thrones,  —  from  which  it  seems  exile 
and  a  fall  do  not  free  them.  His  nature,  which  was  too 
generous  and  too  affectionate  not  to  suffer  from  this 
shrinking  antipathy,  felt  annoyed,  as  his  simple,  daily 
habits  and  Bohemian  artistic  ways  became  restricted  in 
the  forced  ceremony  of  the  house  ;  in  the  repasts  lighted 
by  tall  candelabra,  where  the  men,  and  the  women  who 
were  always  dressed  in  low-necked  dresses,  sat  around 
the  table,  which  was  enlarged  by  the  distance  between  the 
guests  \  and  he  did  not  speak  or  eat  till  the  king  and  queen 
had  eaten  and  spoken.  They  were  also  governed  by  the 
implacable   etiquette  which   the  civil  and  military  head 


96  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

of  the  house  maintained  with  more  severity  during  the 
exile. 

It  happened,  however,  that  the  old  student  in  the  Rue 
Monsieur-le- Prince  sat  at  table  in  a  colored  cravat,  spoke 
without  permission,  and  launched  forth  into  one  of  those 
elegant  improvisations  with  which  the  walls  of  the  Cafd 
Voltaire  still  resounded.  Then  the  looks  of  thunder 
which  he  drew  upon  himself,  and  the  importance  which 
the  least  infraction  of  the  rules  of  the  little  court  as- 
sumed, caused  him  a  great  desire  to  let  every  thing  go, 
and  return  quickly  to  the  quartier,  as  he  had  done  once 
before. 

Only  the  queen  was  there. 

From  having  lived  in  intimate  companionship  with 
Fr^d^rique,  with  the  child  in  their  company,  he  had 
been  inspired  with  a  fanatical  devotion  mingled  with 
respect,  admiration,  and  superstitious  faith.  In  his  eyes 
she  expressed  and  symbolized  all  his  belief,  and  the 
monarchical  ideal,  as  the  Madonna  is  the  symbol  of 
religion  to  a  peasant  from  the  Transt^v^re.  It  was  for 
the  queen  that  he  remained,  and  found  courage  to  go  on 
with  his  hard  task.  Oh,  yes  !  it  was  very  hard,  and  re- 
quired great  patience  ;  for  it  was  difficult  to  instil  the  least 
thing  into  the  mind  of  this  child-king.  But  this  poor 
Zara  was  charming,  gentle,  and  good,  and  did  not  lack 
will.  One  could  see  that  he  possessed  the  serious,  up- 
right soul  of  his  mother,  with  an  indescribable  weakness 
and  capriciousness,  and  that  he  was  too  backward  for  his 
age.  The  mind  was  visibly  undeveloped  in  his  little,  old, 
stunted  body,  which  play  never  tempted,  and  which  was 
burdened  by  reveries  which  often  ended  in  torpor.  Lulled 
to  sleep  during  his  infancy  —  which  to  him  was  only  a 
long   convalescence  —  by  the    fanciful    nonsense   of  his 


THE  KING  ENJOYS  HTMSELF.  97 

governess,  the  life  which  he  began  to  have  a  glimpse  of 
impressed  him  only  by  its  resemblance  to  that  of  those 
stories  in  which  fairies  and  good  spirits  were  mixed  up 
with  kings  and  queens,  and  who  released  them  from 
dreadful  towers  and  dungeons,  and  delivered  them  from 
persecutions  and  snares  with  a  wave  of  their  golden  wand, 
removing  glass  walls,  ramparts  of  thorns,  and  the  dragons 
which  send  forth  fire,  and  the  old  women  who  turn  one 
into  a  beast.  In  a  lesson,  in  the  middle  of  a  difficult  ex- 
planation they  gave  him,  he  would  say,  "  That  is  like  the 
story  of  the  httle  tailor ;  "  or,  if  he  were  reading  about  a 
great  battle,  "The  giant  Robistor  killed  a  great  many 
more  than  that."  It  was  the  love  of  the  supernatural  so 
strongly  developed  in  him  which  gave  him  his  absent  ex- 
pression, and  made  him  remain  motionless  for  hours 
buried  in  the  cushions  of  a  lounge,  while  in  the  depths 
of  his  eyes  floated  the  changing  phantoms  and  decep- 
tive glamour  likely  to  follow  a  child  after  reading  the 
Rothomago,  whose  fable  was  passing  through  his  mem- 
ory in  wonderful  colored  pictures.  And  this  made  rea- 
soning and  the  serious  study  which  was  required  of  him 
very  difficult. 

The  queen  was  present  at  every  lesson,  with  a  piece  of 
embroidery,  which  did  not  progress  very  fast,  in  her  hand  ; 
and  in  her  beautiful  eyes  the  attentive  look  so  prized  by 
the  master,  who  felt  it  influence  all  his  thoughts,  even 
those  which  he  did  not  express.  It  was  thus,  above  all, 
that  they  were  held  together  by  dreams,  fancies,  and  what 
floats  above  convictions  and  expands  them.  She  had 
taken  him  for  an  adviser  and  confidant,  feigning  to  talk 
to  him  only  in  the  name  of  the  king. 

"  Monsieur  M^raut,  his  Majesty  would  like  to  have 
your  opinion  about  this." 


98  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

Elys6e  was  greatly  astonished  at  never  hearing  the 
king  talk  to  him  on  these  matters  which  interested  him 
so  much.  He  addressed  him  familiarly,  as  he  would  a 
comrade ;  which  was  delightful,  but  little  to  the  purpose. 
Sometimes,  as  he  crossed  the  study,  he  would  stop  a 
moment  to  listen  to  the  lesson,  and,  placing  his  hand  on 
the  prince's  shoulder,  would  say  in  an  undertone,  which 
sounded  like  an  echo  of  the  servants'  talk,  "  You  would 
not  make  a  sava?ii  of  him,  I  hope." 

"  I  wish  to  make  a  king  of  him,"  replied  Fr6d6rique 
proudly.  And,  when  her  husband  showed  doubt,  she 
added,  "  Is  he  not  to  reign  some  day?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  yes  !"  he  answered. 

And  with  a  low  bow,  closing  the  door  behind  him  to 
cut  short  all  discussion,  he  went  off  whistling  the  air 
of  a  fashionable  light  opera :  "  He  will  reign  —  he  will 
reign  —  for  he  is  a  Spaniard." 

On  the  whole,  Elys^e  hardly  knew  what  to  make  of  this 
hospitable,  superficial  sovereign  and  perfumed  flirt,  full  of 
caprices,  who  lolled  languidly  on  lounges,  and  whom  he 
believed  to  be  the  hero  of  Ragusa,  the  king  of  energetic 
will  and  bravery,  as  "The  Memorial"  described  him. 

But,  in  spite  of  Fr^d^rique's  skill  in  masking  the  empti- 
ness behind  this  crowned  brow,  and  although  she  herself 
kept  in  the  background,  some  unforeseen  circumstance 
always  presented  itself  to  show  their  true  natures. 

One  morning  after  breakfast,  just  as  they  had  entered 
the  salon,  Fr^d^rique,  on  looking  over  the  newspaper,  — 
"  The  Ill)Tian  Courier,"  which  she  was  always  the  first  to 
read,  —  gave  such  a  loud,  grieved  cry,  that  the  king,  who 
was  about  leaving  the  room,  stopped,  while  every  one 
gathered  around  the  queen,  who  passed  the  paper  to 
Boscovich. 

"  Read  !  "  she  said. 


THE  KING  ENJOYS  HIMSELF.  99 

There  was  an  account  of  the  meeting  of  the  Diet  at 
Laybach,  and  the  resolutions  which  had  been  passed  to 
restore  all  the  property  of  the  crown  to  the  exiled  sov- 
ereigns, to  the  amount  of  more  than  two  hundred  mil- 
hon,  on  the  expressed  condition  — 

"  Bravo  !  "  cried  Christian,  in  his  nasal  voice  :  "  that 
just  suits  me." 

"Go  on  ! "  said  the  queen  severely. 

"  On  the  expressed  condition  that  Christian  II.  would 
renounce,  for  himself  and  descendants,  all  his  right  to  the 
throne  of  Illyria." 

They  all  cried  out  in  indignation.  The  elder  Rosen 
choked,  and  Father  Alph^e's  cheeks  became  as  white  as 
a  sheet,  which  made  his  beard  and  eyes  seem  all  the 
blacker. 

"This  must  be  answered:  we  must  not  endure  this," 
said  the  queen ;  and  in  her  indignation  she  looked  at 
M^raut,  who  was  nervously  scribbling  on  a  comer  of  the 
table. 

"  This  is  what  I  would  write,"  said  he,  coming  forward ; 
and  he  read,  in  the  form  of  a  letter  to  a  royalist  deputy, 
a  haughty  proclamation  to  the  Illyrian  people,  in  which, 
after  having  rejected  the  outrageous  proposition  which 
was  made  to  him,  the  king  encouraged  and  re-assured  his 
friends  in  the  feeling  words  of  a  head  of  a  family  parted 
from  his  children. 

The  queen  clapped  her  hands  enthusiastically,  seized 
the  paper,  and  held  it  out  to  Boscovich. 

"  Quick,  quick  !  translate,  and  send  it  off.  Is  not  that 
your  advice?"  she  added,  turning  to  Christian,  as  she 
remembered  that  he  was  there,  and  that  people  were 
looking  at  them. 

"  Certainly,  certainly,"  said  the  king,  very  much  per- 


lOO  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

plexed,  and  biting  his  nails  in  fury.  "  All  that  is  very 
fine.     Only  the  question  is  whether  we  can  hold  out." 

The  queen  turned  quickly  round,  looking  very  pale, 
and  as  if  she  had  received  a  heavy  blow  between  her 
shoulders. 

"  Hold  out !  whether  we  can  hold  out !  Is  it  the  king 
who  speaks?  " 

"  When  Ragusa  wanted  bread,  with  the  very  best  will 
in  the  world  we  were  obliged  to  surrender,"  he  answered 
very  calmly. 

"  Well,  this  time,  if  we  want  for  bread,  we  will  take  a 
basket,  and  beg  it  from  door  to  door ;  but  royalty  will 
never  surrender." 

What  a  scene  it  was  which  took  place  in  this  small 
salon  in  the  outskirts  of  Paris,  —  this  debate  between  two 
fallen  sovereigns  !  one  of  whom,  one  felt,  was  weary  of 
the  struggle,  and  paralyzed  for  lack  of  faith ;  while  the 
other  was  exalted  with  ardor  and  faith.  A  mere  glance 
revealed  their  opposite  natures.  On  the  one  hand  was 
the  king,  with  his  supple,  delicate  figure,  and  bare  throat, 
and  his  garments  hanging  loosely  upon  him,  and  his  soft 
character  plainly  apparent  in  the  effeminate  drooping  of 
his  pale  hands,  and  in  the  damp,  curly  hair  on  his  fore- 
head ;  and  on  the  other  was  the  queen's  slender  form, 
superb  in  her  riding-dress  with  broad  lapels,  a  small, 
upright  collar,  and  simple  cuffs  bordering  her  dark  cos- 
tume, which  brought  out  her  bright  complexion,  sparkling 
eyes,  and  golden  braids.  Elys^e  for  the  first  time  had  a 
clear,  fleeting  vision  of  what  was  passing  in  this  royal 
household. 

"  Rosen  ! "  said  Christian  II.  suddenly,  turning  to  the 
duke,  who  stood  leaning  against  the  mantel-piece,  with 
his  head  hung  down. 


THE   KING   ENJOYS  HIMSELF.  lOI 

"Sire?" 

"  It  is  you  alone  who  can  tell  us  this.  How  is  it  with 
us  ?     Can  we  hold  out  any  longM'  ?  " 

The  chief  of  the  house  said,  with  a  haughty  gesture,  — 

"  Certainly." 

" How  long?     Can  you  tell  pretty  nearly? " 

"  Five  years  :   I  have  reckoned  it." 

"  Without  privations  for  any  one  ?  without  the  suffering 
or  injury  of  those  whom  we  love  ?  " 

"Yes,  sire." 

"  You  are  sure  of  it  ?  " 

"Sure,"  affirmed  the  old  man,  drawing  up  his  tall 
figure. 

"  Well,  that  is  right.  M^raut,  give  me  your  letter,  that 
I  may  sign  it  before  I  go  out."  Then  he  said  in  a  low 
voice,  taking  the  pen  fi-om  his  hands,  — 

"  But  look  at  Madame  de  Silvis.  Would  not  one  say 
that  she  was  about  to  sing  '  La  Sombre  Foret '  ?  " 

The  marchioness,  who  was  just  then  entering  from  the 
garden  with  the  little  prince,  gave  the  room  the  appear- 
ance of  a  scene  in  a  drama.  With  her  cap  adorned  with 
a  green  feather,  and  wearing  a  velvet  spencer,  and  with 
her  hand  on  her  heart,  she  stopped,  with  a  sudden  stage 
pose  of  romantic  surprise,  like  a  piitna  dojina  in  a 
cavatina  in  the  opera. 

Having  been  read  in  full  parliament,  and  published  by 
all  the  journals,  the  protestation,  at  Elys^e's  advice,  was 
autographed,  and  thousands  of  copies  sent  about  the 
country,  carried  in  packages,  and  passed  by  the  custom- 
house officers  as  articles  of  charity,  with  rosaries  of  olive- 
nuts,  and  roses  from  Jericho.  It  was  the  means  of 
spurring  royalist  opinions.  Dalmatia,  in  particular,  where 
republican   ideas   had   not   widely    spread,    was   greatly 


I02  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

moved  at  hearing  her  king's  eloquent  words,  which  in 
many  villages  were  delivered  from  the  pulpit,  and  dis- 
tributed by  the  Franciscan  monks  appointed  to  ask 
charity,  and  who  opened  their  baskets  at  farmhouse- 
doors,  and  received  eggs  and  butter  in  payment  for  a 
small  printed  package.  Soon  addresses  were  covered 
with  signatures  and  crosses,  the  touching  proofs  of  igno- 
rant good  will ;  and  pilgrimages  were  organized. 

In  the  litlle  house  at  Saint  Mandd  there  were  arrivals 
of  fishermen,  and  some  porters  from  Ragusa  with  black 
coats  over  their  rich  Mussulmans'  costume,  and  Morlaque 
peasants  three-quarters  barbarians,  and  all  shod  with  the 
sheepskin  opanke  fastened  on  the  feet  with  straw  thongs. 
They  got  out  of  the  cars  in  bands ;  and  the  scarlet  Dal- 
matian tunics,  fringed  scarfs,  and  waistcoats  with  metal 
buttons  clashed  against  the  gray  uniformity  of  the  Parisian 
dress.  They  crossed  the  court-yard  with  a  firm  step ;  then 
stopped  at  the  vestibule,  consulted  with  each  other  in  a 
low  voice  as  if  excited  and  intimidated. 

Meraut,  who  was  present  at  all  these  presentations,  felt 
moved  to  the  depths  of  his  being.  The  legend  of  his 
childhood  was  revived  by  the  enthusiasm  that  led  them 
to  such  a  distance  :  and  the  journey  to  Frohsdorf  made  by 
the  villagers  in  the  Enclos  de  Rey,  their  privations  and 
preparations  for  departure,  and  their  unconfessed  disap- 
pointment on  their  return,  came  back  to  his  memory ; 
while  he  suffered  from  Christian's  indifferent  manner,  and 
the  sighs  of  relief  he  gave  at  the  end  of  every  interview. 

At  heart  the  king  was  furious  at  these  visits,  which  dis- 
turbed his  pleasures  and  habits,  and  condemned  him  to 
spend  long  afternoons  at  Saint  Mandd.  For  the  queen's 
sake,  however,  he  received,  with  a  few  commonplace 
remarks,  the  protestations  of  these  poor  people,  who  were 


THE  KING  ENJOYS  HIMSELF.  103 

choked  with  their  tears ;  then  avenged  himself  for  his 
ennui  by  some  sport  or  other,  —  a  caricature  pencilled, 
with  an  expression  of  wicked  mischief  at  the  comer  of 
his  lips,  on  the  end  of  the  table.  He  thus  caricatured 
one  day  the  syndic  of  the  fishermen  of  Branizza,  with  a 
broad  Italian  face,  with  staring  eyes,  and  stupefied  by 
nervousness  and  his  joy  at  the  royal  interview,  while  tears 
rolled  down  to  his  double  chin.  This  chef  (fxuvre  circu- 
lated at  table  the  next  day  amid  laughter  and  exclama- 
tions of  the  guests. 

The  duke  himself,  in  his  scorn  for  the  people,  had  just 
puckered  his  mouth  as  a  token  of  great  hilarity ;  and  the 
drawing  reached  Elysde,  receiving  on  its  way  the  noisy 
flattery  of  Boscovich.  He  looked  at  it  a  long  while, 
handed  it  to  his  neighbor  without  saying  a  word ;  and 
the  king,  calling  to  him  from  the  end  of  the  table  in  his 
impertinent  nasal  voice,  said,  — 

"You  do  not  laugh,  Meraut ;  yet  my  syndic  is  pretty." 

"  No,  your  Majesty :  I  cannot  laugh,"  answered  Me- 
raut sadly.     "  It  is  a  perfect  picture  of  my  father." 

Some  time  after  this,  Elysee  found  himself  the  involun- 
tary witness  of  a  scene,  which  at  last  revealed  Christian's 
character  to  him  and  his  relations  with  the  queen.  It  was 
on  a  Sunday,  after  mass.  The  little  hotel,  which  had  an 
unusually  festive  appearance,  threw  its  gates  on  the  Rue 
Herbillon  wide  open ;  and  all  the  servants  in  livery  stood 
in  a  line  in  the  antechamber  opening  on  the  porch, 
which  was  as  full  of  foliage  as  a  greenhouse.  The  recep- 
tion which  was  to  take  place  on  this  day  was  one  of  the 
greatest  importance.  They  were  expecting  a  royalist 
deputation  of  members  of  the  Diet ;  the  elite  and  flower 
of  the  party  coming  to  pay  their  homage  of  fidelity  and 
devotion  to  the  king,  and  to  consult  with  him  on  the 


I04  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

measures  to  take  for  a  near  restoration.  A  real  event 
that  had  been  hoped  for  and  announced,  and  whose 
solemnity  was  relieved  by  a  magnificent  winter's  sun  gild- 
ing and  driving  away  the  chill  of  the  solitude  of  the 
vast  reception-room  with  the  high  arm-chair  of  the  king 
arranged  as  a  throne,  and  bringing  out  of  the  shadow 
streams  of  sparkling  light  from  the  rubies,  sapphires,  and 
topazes  of  the  crown. 

While  the  house  was  in  commotion  with  a  continual 
coming  and  going,  and  with  the  rustle  of  silk  dresses  on 
every  story ;  while  the  little  prince,  allowing  them  to  put 
on  his  long  red  stockings,  velvet  costume,  and  collar  of 
Venetian  guipure,  repeated  the  speech  they  had  made 
him  study  for  a  week ;  and  while  Rosen,  in  grand  style 
and  covered  with  stars,  was  holding  himself  up  straighter 
than  ever  to  introduce  the  deputies,  —  Elysee,  who  had 
voluntarily  taken  refuge  from  all  this  bustle,  was  alone  in 
the  study-room,  meditating  on  the  consequences  of  the 
coming  interview ;  and  in  that  mirage  in  which  his  South- 
em  imagination  loved  to  hover,  he  was  already  preparing 
the  triumphant  return  of  his  sovereigns  to  Laybach  amid 
salvos  of  artillery  and  ringing  of  bells,  the  streets  joy- 
ously strewn  with  flowers,  and  the  king  and  queen  hold- 
ing before  them,  as  a  promise  to  the  people  of  a  future 
which  would  again  ennoble  them,  —  place  them  in  the 
ranks  of  younger  ancestors,  —  his  dearly  loved  pupil,  the 
little  Zara,  who  was  intelligent  and  grave,  as  are  all 
children  who  feel  emotions  too  great  for  them. 

The  brilliancy  of  this  beautiful  Sunday,  the  lively  bells 
ringing  out  in  broad  noonday  sunshine,  increased  his  hope 
of  2Lfete  where  Frederique's  maternal  pride  would  perhaps 
send  a  proud,  satisfied  smile  to  him  over  the  child's 
head. 


THE  KING  ENJOYS  HIMSELF.  1 05 

But  in  the  court  of  honor,  which  was  filled  with  the 
noisy  bustle  of  arriving  guests,  the  state  carriages  which 
had  been  sent  to  the  hotel  for  the  deputies  were  heard 
rolling  heavily  over  the  gravel.  The  coach-doors  were 
noisily  shut,  and  the  footsteps  died  away  on  the  carpets 
of  the  vestibule  and  salon  into  a  murmur  of  voices  pay- 
ing their  respects.  Then  there  was  a  long  silence,  which 
surprised  Meraut;  for  he  expected  to  hear  the  king's 
speech  delivered  in  his  nasal  voice.  What  was  happen- 
ing ?  what  had  checked  the  order  of  ceremonies  ? 

At  this  moment,  he,  whom  he  believed  in  the  next 
room  and  presiding  at  the  official  reception,  appeared, 
walking  with  a  stiff,  embarrassed  step,  and  grazing  the 
blackened  espaliers  in  the  bright,  chilly  garden.  He  must 
have  entered  by  the  Avenue  Daumesnil  through  the  pri- 
vate gate,  which  is  hidden  by  the  ivy.  Elysee  at  first 
thought  there  must  have  been  a  duel,  or  some  accident : 
but,  soon  after,  he  heard  the  noise  of  a  fall  in  the  upper 
story,  —  a  fall  which  seemed  to  carry  with  it  the  furniture 
and  draperies  of  the  room  it  was  so  prolonged  and 
heavy,  and  accompanied  by  a  crashing  of  articles  falling 
to  the  floor,  which  confirmed  him  in  his  belief;  and  he 
ran  up  quickly  to  the  king. 

Christian's  room,  which  was  in  the  form  of  a  semi- 
circle in  the  principal  wing  of  the  castle,  was  warm,  and 
lined  like  a  nest.  It  was  hung  with  purple,  and  adorned 
with  trophies  of  ancient  arms  ;  while  the  furniture  con- 
sisted of  lounges,  low  chairs,  with  bear  and  lion  skins 
scattered  about.  And  in  the  midst  of  this  downy  luxury 
was  the  original  conceit  of  a  little  camp-bed,  on  which 
the  king  slept  on  account  of  a  family  tradition,  and  that 
posing  for  Spartan  simplicity  which  millionnaires  and  sov- 
ereigns voluntarily  affect. 


lo6  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

The  door  was  open. 

Opposite  Christian  —  who  was  leaning  against  the  wall, 
with  his  hat  pushed  back  from  his  pale,  disturbed  face  ; 
with  his  long  fur  robe  partly  open  and  showing  his  coat, 
which  was  disarranged,  his  untied  white  cravat,  his  broad 
linen  plastron  in  stiff,  soiled  creases,  and  his  linen  in  that 
crumpled  state  which  denotes  the  exhaustion  of  the  pre- 
vious night  and  the  disorder  of  intoxication  —  the  queen 
stood  erect  and  severe,  trembling  with  the  violent  effort 
she  made  to  restrain  herself,  and  saying,  in  a  hollow,  re- 
proving voice,  — 

"  You  must !  you  must !     Come  !  " 

But  he  answered  in  a  very  low  voice,  looking 
ashamed,  — 

"  I  c-c-annot.  You  see  that  I  c-c-annot  —  By  and 
by —     Promise  you." 

Then  he  stammered  his  excuses  with  a  stupid  laugh 
and  a  childish  voice.  It  was  not  because  he  had  been 
drinking.  Oh,  no  !  but  the  air,  the  cold,  when  he  came 
out  from  supper. 

"  Yes,  yes  !  I  know.  No  matter.  You  must  go  down. 
Let  them  see  you ;  only  let  them  see  you  !  I  will  speak  to 
them  myself:  I  know  what  is  necessary  to  say." 

And  as  he  still  remained  motionless  and  mute  from 
the  stupor,  which  showed  itself  on  his  horribly  distorted 
face,  Frederique  grew  exasperated  in  her  anger. 

"  But  remember  that  our  destiny  is  at  stake.  Christian, 
it  is  your  crown  —  the  crown  of  your  son  —  which  you 
are  playing  for  now.  Try  now  :  come  !  I  beg  you,  —  I 
command." 

She  was  superb  in  her  strong  will,  which  was  expressed 
in  her  greenish-blue  eyes,  and  visibly  magnetized  the 
king. 


'At  last   I    am   tired   of  acting  for  this 


Page    10/ 


I 


THE  KING  EN'TOYS  HIMSELF.  107 

She  held  him  by  her  look,  tried  to  give  him  strength, 
to  keep  him  erect,  and  helped  him  to  remove  his  hat  and 
great  coat  which  was  strongly  scented  with  the  fumes  of 
drunkenness  and  the  stifling  smoke  of  cigars.  He  stiff- 
ened himself  a  moment  on  his  weak  limbs,  and  tottered 
forward  a  few  steps,  supporting  his  burning  hands  on  the 
marble  ones  of  the  queen.  But  she  felt  that  he  was 
reeling,  and  recoiled  from  this  feverish  contact,  and  re- 
pulsed him  with  violence  and  disgust,  leaving  him  to  fall 
his  whole  length  on  a  lounge  ;  then,  without  casting  a 
look  at  the  tumbled,  motionless  body,  she  left  the  room, 
and  passed  by  Elyse'e  without  looking  at  him,  holding 
herself  erect,  but  casting  down  her  eyes,  and  murmuring 
in  a  wandering,  troubled  way,  like  one  walking  in  her 
sleep,  '*  At  last  I  am  tired  of  acting  for  this  wretched 
king." 


8 


io8  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 


CHAPTER  V. 

J.   TOM   LEVIS,    AGENT   FOR    FOREIGNERS. 

Of  all  the  Parisian  dens,  all  the  Ali-Baba  caverns  with 
which  the  great  city  is  mined  and  countermined,  there  is 
not  one  more  peculiar,  or  of  so  interesting  a  character, 
as  the  Levis  Agency.  You  are  acquainted  with  it,  like 
every  one  else,  —  at  least  from  the  outside. 

It  is  in  the  Rue  Royale,  at  the  comer  of  the  Faubourg 
Saint  Honore,  direcdy  on  the  route  of  the  carriages  on 
their  way  to  the  Bois  or  returning,  so  that  no  one  can 
escape  the  alluring  invitation  of  the  sumptuous  ground- 
floor  with  the  eight  steps  leading  to  it;  and  its  large 
windows  with  a  single  pane  of  glass,  each  bearing  the 
vermilion,  blue,  and  gilded  arms  of  the  principal  powers 
of  Europe,  —  eagles,  unicorns,  leopards,  and  all  the  he- 
raldic menagerie.  The  Levis  Agency  attracts  the  atten- 
tion of  the  least  curious,  at  thirty  metres'  distance,  across 
the  entire  width  of  the  street,  which  is  equal  to  a  boule- 
vard. Every  one  asks,  "What  is  for  sale  there?"  — 
"  What  is  not  for  sale  ? "  one  should  say.  On  each 
window-pane  could  be  read  in  gold  letters,  "  Here  are 
sold  wines,  liquors,  provisions,  pale  ale,  kiimmel,  raki, 
caviare,  prepared  codfish ;  "  and  "  Modem  and  ancient 
furniture,  drapery,  carpets  from  Smyrna  and  Ispahan,  and 
plants."  And  farther  on  :  "  Pictures  by  the  masters,  mar- 
ble and  terra-cotta  ornaments,  costly  arms,  medals,  and 
armor."     Besides  :  "  Change,  discount,  foreign  money ;  " 


y.    TOM  LEVIS,   AGENT  FOR  FOREIGNERS.      109 

and  also,  "  Universal  bookstore,  journals  of  every  country 
in  every  language."  With,  "  Houses  for  sale  or  to  let  in 
the  hunting  country,  sea-shore,  or  the  suburbs  ;  "  and  "  In- 
formation, secrecy,  despatch." 

This  swarming  of  inscriptions  and  brilliant  armor  makes 
a  strange  medley  in  the  front  of  the  establishment,  and 
does  not  allow  one  to  get  a  good  sight  of  the  articles  dis- 
played. There  is  a  confused  mass  of  bottles  of  strange 
forms  and  colors,  chairs  in  carved  wood,  pictures  and 
furs,  and  some  loose  rolls  of  piasters  and  piles  of  paper 
money  in  wooden  bowls.  But  the  vast  basement  of  the 
agency  opening  on  the  street  on  a  level  with  the  sidewalk, 
by  a  kind  of  port-holes  with  gratings,  serves  as  a  solid 
and  sober  support  for  the  rather  glaring  display  in  the 
windows  of  the  immense  store,  and  gives  the  impressioc 
of  the  substantial  warehouses  of  London,  but  retaining 
the  chic  and  the  claptrap  of  a  window  in  the  Boulevard 
de  la  Madeleine.  It  overflows  with  every  kind  of  costly 
article,  —  rows  of  barrels,  bales  of  goods,  piles  of  chests 
and  trunks,  boxes  of  preserves,  holes  deep  enough  to 
give  one  the  vertigo,  as,  when  standing  on  the  deck  of  a 
"packet  "  covered  with  freight  to  be  shipped,  one  looks 
down  into  the  gaping  hold  of  the  ship  which  is  about  to 
be  loaded. 

Thus  situated  and  firmly  established  in  the  very  whirl 
of  Parisian  travel,  the  net  captures  the  floating  tide  of 
great  and  little  fishes,  —  even  the  small  fry  of  the  Seine, 
the  most  cunning  of  all.  If  you  pass  it  towards  three 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  you  will  find  it  almost  always 
filled. 

At  the  large,  polished  glass  door  opening  on  the  Rue 
Royale,  and  surmounted  by  a  broad  frontal  of  carved  wood, 
—  the  entrance  to  a  store  where  novelties  or  fashions  are 


no  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

supplied, — stands  the  footman  of  the  house,  decked  with 
miUtary  lace,  turning  the  door-knob  as  soon  as  he  sees 
you,  and,  when  necessary,  holding  an  umbrella  over  pa- 
trons alighting  from  their  carriages.  Before  you  is  a  long 
room,  divided  by  partitions  and  railings,  with  gates,  into 
a  large  number  of  compartments  or  boxes,  as  far  as  the 
end  of  the  store  on  the  right  and  left. 

The  dazzling  daylight  brightens  the  waxed  floors,  the 
wood-work,  and  the  correct  coats  and  curled  hair  of  the 
employes,  who  are  all  elegant  and  fine  looking,  but  have 
a  foreign  accent  and  manner. 

Here  were  seen  olive  faces,  pointed  heads,  and  narrow 
Asiatic  shoulders ;  and,  underneath  the  china-blue  eyes, 
American  beards  encircling  the  throat  like  a  collar,  with 
German  red  carnation  complexions.  In  whatever  idiom 
the  purchaser  makes  known  his  wants,  he  is  always  sure 
to  be  understood ;  for  they  speak  every  language  in  the 
agency  except  the  Russian,  which  is  quite  unnecessary, 
since  the  Russians  speak  all  except  their  own.  The  crowd 
comes  and  goes  around  the  gates,  and  sits  in  light  chairs 
while  waiting.  In  it  are  ladies  and  gentlemen  in  travel- 
ling-dress, with  Astrachan  caps,  Scotch  caps,  long  veils 
floating  over  water-proofs,  and  dusters  ;  with  Scotch  plaids 
clothing  indiscriminately  the  two  sexes,  bundles  in  straps, 
and  leather  bags  slung  over  the  shoulder.  It  is  a  true 
public  waiting-room,  where  people  gesticulate,  and  talk 
loud  in  the  free  unembarrassed  manner  one  sees  in  peo- 
ple when  away  from  home,  and  where  they  make  the  same 
discordant  hubbub  that  one  hears  in  bird-stores  on  the 
Quai  de  Gevres.  At  the  same  time  corks  pop  out  of 
bottles  of  pale  ale  or  romanee,  and  piles  of  gold  rattle 
down  on  the  wooden  counters.  There  is  a  constant 
whistling  and  striking   of  speaking-tubes   mingled  with 


y.    TOM  LEVIS,   AGENT  FOR  FOREIGNERS.      Ill 

the  sound  of  a  chord  of  arpeggios  from  some  one  trying 
the  piano,  or  the  exclamations  of  a  tribe  of  Samoides 
around  an  enormous  photograph  in  charcoal,  and  the 
unrolling  of  a  pasteboard  plan  of  a  house.  And  then, 
from  one  box  to  another,  clerks  call  out  to  each  other, 
imparting  some  piece  of  information,  —  a  number,  or  a 
name  of  a  person  or  street ;  and,  from  being  eager  and 
smiling,  become  all  at  once  majestic,  frozen,  and  indif- 
ferent, with  an  expression  of  countenance  as  if  their 
thoughts  were  completely  detached  from  the  things  of 
this  world,  whenever  an  unfortimate  man,  wandering 
about  as  if  lost,  and  sent  from  gate  to  gate,  at  last  leans 
over  and  speaks  to  them  in  a  low  voice  of  a  certain 
mysterious  thing,  which  seems  to  fill  them  with  astonish- 
ment. Sometimes,  feeling  tired  of  being  gazed  at  like  a 
waterspout  or  meteor,  the  man  becomes  impatient,  and 
asks  to  see  Tom  Levis  himself,  who  would  certainly 
know  all  about  it.  Then  he  is  answered  with  a  disdain- 
ful smile  that  J.  Tom  Levis  is  busy.  J.  Tom  Levis  is 
engaged  with  some  one ;  and  not  about  little  unimpor- 
tant matters  like  yours, — not  with  little  nobodies  like  you, 
my  worthy  man  !  Stop  !  look  yonder  to  the  further  end 
of  the  store.  A  door  has  just  opened,  and  Tom  Levis 
appears  a  second,  more  majestic  himself  than  are  all  in 
his  employ ;  majestic  in  his  rounded  paunch  ;  majestic  in 
his  bald  pate,  which  is  as  shiny  as  the  floor  of  the  agency ; 
majestic  in  his  way  of  tossing  back  his  little  head,  and 
looking  fifteen  steps  away  from  you  ;  and  majestic  in  the 
despotic  gesture  of  his  short  arm,  and  in  the  solemn  way 
in  which  he  asks  in  very  loud  tones,  with  his  insular 
accent,  if  the  "envoa"  of  his  Royal  Highness  the 
Prince  of  Wales  has  been  attended  to  :  while  at  the 
Cc;me  time,  with  the  hand  that  is  free,  he  keeps  his  office- 


112  IC/NGS  IN  EXILE. 

door  behind  him  tightly  closed,  to  give  people  to  under- 
stand that  the  august  personage  who  shuts  himself  up 
there  is  not  to  be  disturbed  under  any  pretext. 

It  need  not  be  told  that  the  Prince  of  Wales  never 
came  to  the  agency,  and  they  have  not  the  smallest  order 
of  his  to  fill ;  but  you  can  imagine  the  effect  of  this  name 
on  the  crowd  in  the  store,  and  on  the  solitary  patron  to 
whom  Tom  has  just  said  in  his  office,  "  Pardon  !  A 
moment  —     A  little  matter  to  ask  about." 

Some  banking  business  !  banking  business  !  There  is 
no  more  a  Prince  of  \Vales  behind  the  office-door  than 
there  is  raki  or  kiimmel  in  the  odd  bottles  in  the  window, 
or  English  or  Viennese  beer  in  the  barrels  arranged  in  a 
row  in  the  basements ;  nor  are  goods  transported  in  the 
gilded  and  varnished  wagons,  emblazoned  with  the  ini- 
tials "J.T.  L.,"  which  go  galloping  along,  the  faster  be- 
cause they  are  empty,  through  the  beautiful  quarters  of 
Paris, — a  perambulating,  noisy  advertisement,  tearing 
along  with  the  fierce  speed  which  distinguishes  men  and 
beasts  in  the  Tom  Levis  Agency. 

If  a  poor  devil,  intoxicated  by  this  glitter,  should 
plunge  his  fist  through  the  cash-window,  and  eagerly 
thrust' his  bleeding  hand  in  the  wooden  bowls,  he  would 
draw  it  out  full  of  brass  counters ;  if  he  takes  that  enor- 
mous pile  of  bank-notes,  he  will  carry  off  a  five-pound 
note  on  a  ream  of  brown  paper. 

Nothing  in  the  show-windows ;  nothing  in  the  base- 
ment, —  nothing  !  nothing  !  not  as  much  as  the  snap  of 
your  finger.  But  the  port  these  English  taste !  the 
change  which  this  boyar  carries  off  for  his  rubles  !  the 
little  bronze  packed  up  for  that  Greek  of  the  Isles  !  Oh, 
heavens  !  there  is  nothing  more  simple  !  The  English 
beer  comes  from  the  public-house  next  door;  the  gold 


y.    TOM  LEVIS,   AGENT  FOR  FOREIGNERS.      113 

from  a  broker  on  the  boulevard ;  the  trinket  from  the 
store  of  "  Chose  "  in  the  Rue  du  Quatre  Septembre,  All 
that  is  required  is  an  errand  (quickly  done  by  two  or  three 
clerks  who  are  waiting  in  the  basement  for  orders  through 
the  speaking-tubes. 

Going  out  through  the  yard  of  the  neighboring  house, 
they  return  in  a  few  minutes,  emerge  from  the  winding 
stairs,  with  its  open-work  balustrade  and  glass  ball  at  the 
end,  which  connects  the  two  stories.  Here  is  the  article 
asked  for,  guaranteed,  and  labelled  "J.  T.  L."  And  do 
not  give  yourself  any  concern,  my  prince  :  if  this  does  not 
please  you,  it  can  be  changed.  The  cellars  of  the  agency 
are  well  stocked.  Things  are  a  little  dearer  here  than 
elsewhere,  —  only  double  and  triple  the  price.  But  is  not 
that  better  than  to  run  about  in  shops  where  one  cannot 
understand  a  word  of  what  you  say,  in  spite  of  the  prom- 
ise on  the  signboard,  "  English  spoken,"  or  "Man  spricht 
deutsch"!  —  these  stores  on  the  boulevard,  where  the 
stranger,  overcome  and  circumvented,  never  finds  any 
thing  but  the  last  of  boxes  or  remnants,  the  old  stock,  the 
refuse  of  Paris,  the  shop-worn  goods,  the  articles  which 
are  no  longer  in  the  fashion,  and  last  year's  contents  of 
the  show-window  faded  more  by  age  than  by  dust  or  sun- 
light. 

Oh !  the  Parisian  shopkeeper,  obsequious,  yet  disa- 
greeably persistent ;  disdainful  and  indifferent,  yet  follow- 
ing one  closely  about !  his  days  have  ended  :  the  for- 
eigner wishes  no  more  of  him.  He  is  weary  at  last  of 
being  so  cruelly  imposed  upon,  not  only  by  the  shop- 
keeper, but  by  the  people  in  the  hotel  where  he  sleeps, 
the  restaurant  where  he  eats,  the  hack  which  he  hails  in 
the  street,  and  the  ticket-seller  who  sends  him  to  yawn  in 
empty  theatres.     At  least,  in  the  Levis  establishment  — 


114  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

in  that  ingenious  agency  of  foreigners,  where  one  finds  all 
that  one  desires  —  you  are  sure  not  to  be  deceived ;  for 
J.  Tom  Levis  is  an  Englishman,  and  the  commercial 
integrity  of  the  English  is  known  in  the  old  and  new 
world. 

J.  Tom  Levis  is  an  Englishman  —  and  as  much  of  one 
as  it  is  possible  to  be  —  from  the  square  toes  of  his  Quaker 
shoes  to  his  long  overcoat  hanging  down  over  his  green 
checked  pantaloons,  to  his  pyramidal-shaped  hat,  with  its 
very  small  brim,  from  which  his  round,  rosy  face,  with  its 
innocent,  boyish  look,  stands  out  prominently.  One 
read  loyalty  to  Albion  in  the  beefsteak  complexion,  the 
mouth  which  reached  from  ear  to  ear,  and  the  blond  silki- 
ness  of  the  whiskers,  which  were  uneven  through  their 
owner's  mania  for  devouring  one  of  them  —  always  the 
same  one  —  in  his  moments  of  perplexity ;  and  one  could 
divine  it  by  his  short  hand,  with  fingers  covered  with  red 
hair  and  loaded  with  rings.  And  there  was  a  loyal  look 
in  his  eyes  too,  underneath  a  large  pair  of  spectacles  deli- 
cately mounted  in  gold ;  so  loyal,  that,  when  Tom  Levis 
was  obliged  to  lie,  —  the  best  of  us  are  forced  to  do  this 
sometimes,  —  the  pupils,  by  a  singular  nervous  twitching, 
revolved  like  small  wheels  carried  away  in  the  perspective 
of  a  gyroscope. 

But  that  which  thoroughly  completes  Tom  Levis's  Eng- 
lish appearance  is  his  cab,  the  first  vehicle  of  the  kind 
ever  seen  in  Paris,  and  a  natural  shell  for  such  an  origi- 
nal being.  If  he  has  business  which  is  somewhat  com- 
plicated, or  one  of  those  moments  that  come  to  a  business- 
man sometimes  when  he  finds  himself  driven  into  a 
tight  comer,  he  says  to  himself,  "  I  will  take  a  cab ;  "  and 
in  it  he  is  sure  to  have  an  idea.  He  contrives,  weighs, 
and  decides;  while  the   Parisians  see   the  profile  of  a 


y.    TOM  LEVIS,   AGENT  FOR  FOREIGNERS.      115 

thoughtful  man  energetically  gnawing  his  right  whisker  roll 
by  in  the  two-wheeled  transparent  box,  which  is  almost 
on  a  level  with  the  ground.  It  is  in  this  cab  that  he 
has  conceived  his  finest  strokes,  —  those  that  belonged  to 
the  last  days  of  the  Empire.  Ah  !  those  were  good  times. 
Paris  overflowed  with  strangers,  —  not  transient  ones 
but  an  influx  of  wealthy  foreigners, — who  ordered  nothing 
but  weddings  and  entertainments.  We  had  the  Turk  Hus- 
sein Bey  and  the  Egyptian  Mehemet  Pacha,  two  cele- 
brated Islamites,  near  the  lake  ;  and  the  Princess  Verkats- 
cheff,  who  threw  all  the  money  of  the  Oural  Mountains 
out  of  the  fourteen  windows  of  her  apartments  on  the  first 
story  on  the  Boulevard  Malesherbes ;  and  the  American 
Bergson,  whose  enormous  income  in  petroleum-wells  was 
consumed  by  Paris  (he  recovered  his  money  afterwards)  ; 
and  nabobs  —  flotillas  of  nabobs  —  of  every  color,  yellow, 
brown,  and  red,  a  variegated  collection,  were  seen  in 
every  promenade  and  theatre,  eager  to  spend  money  and 
enjoy  themselves,  as  if  they  foresaw  that  they  must  exhaust 
the  pleasures  of  the  grand  saloon  before  the  formidable 
explosion  which  would  crush  in  the  roof,  and  break  the 
mirrors  and  windows. 

You  may  be  sure  that  J.  Tom  Levis  was  the  indispensa- 
ble intermediary  in  all  these  pleasures ;  that  a  louis  was 
not  given  in  change  without  his  having  previously  pared 
it ;  and  that  in  addition  to  his  foreign  patrons  were  Parisian 
high  livers  of  the  time,  amateurs  in  search  of  rare  game, 
poachers  on  private  hunting-grounds,  who  applied  to  friend 
Tom  as  the  shrewdest  and  most  skilful  agent,  and  also 
because  their  secrets  seemed  to  them  safer  behind  his 
barbarous  French  and  difficult  enunciation. 

The  seal  J.  T.  L.  stamped  all  the  scandalous  stories  at 
the  close  of  the   Empire.     It  was  in  the  name  of  Tom 


Ii6  KINGS  FN  EXILE. 

Levis  that  the  box  in  the  pit,  No.  9,  in  the  Opera 
Comique,  was  retained,  and  in  which  the  Baroness  Mills 
spent  one  hour  every  evening  listening  to  her  dear  little 
tenor,  whose  handkerchief,  moistened  with  perspiration 
and  hly-white,  she  carried  off  in  the  lace  in  her  corsage 
after  the  cavatina. 

In  the  name  of  Tom  Levis  the  small  hotel  in  the  Ave- 
nue de  Clichy  was  let  for  the  use  of  a  lady  jointly,  and 
without  their  suspicion,  to  the  brothers  Sismondo,  two 
bankers  in  partnership,  who  never  left  their  counting-room 
at  the  same  time.  Ah  !  what  beautiful  romances  one 
could  have  read  in  the  books  of  the  agency  at  that 
time  :  — 

'■^  House  with  two  entrances,  on  the  road  to  Saiftt 
Cloud.  Let  furnished.  Security  to  the  tenant"  —  so 
much. 

And  underneath :  — 

"  Manager's  commission  "  —  so  much. 

"  Country-house  at  Little  Vattin,  near  Plombieres : 
garden,  coach-house,  two  entrances.  Security  to  the 
tenant"  —  so  much. 

And  always  "a  manager's  commission."  This  man- 
ager's commission  swells  the  accounts  of  the  agency. 

Though  Tom  grew  rich  in  those  days,  he  also  spent 
money  liberally,  —  not  in  gaming,  or  on  horses  or  women, 
but  in  gratifying  wild,  childish  caprices,  and  the  most 
foolish  and  absurd  fancies  imaginable,  which  he  carried 
into  execution  as  soon  as  conceived.  Once  it  was  his 
fancy  to  have  an  alley  of  acacias  at  the  end  of  his  estate 
at  Courbevoie ;  and,  as  it  takes  trees  too  long  to  grow,  for 
a  week  one  saw  large  carts  winding  slowly  along  the 
banks  of  the  Seine. — which  were  bare  and  dingy  in  this 
vicinity,  from  the  smoke  of  factories,  —  and  each  bore  an 


y.    TOM  LEVIS,   AGENT  FOR  FOREIGNERS.      II7 

acacia,  from  whose  plumy,  green  branches,  swayed  by  the 
motion  of  the  wheels,  trembling  shadows  floated  over  the 
water. 

This  suburban  estate  —  in  which  Tom  Levis  lived  all 
the  year,  according  to  the  custom  of  great  London  mer- 
chants —  was  at  first  a  country-box,  consisting  of  one 
story  and  attics ;  but  afterwards  it  became  a  source  of 
frightful  expense.  His  business  prospering  and  extend- 
ing, he  increased  his  property  in  proportion ;  and  from 
one  building  after  another,  and  acquisition  after  acquisi- 
tion, he  finally  possessed  a  park  made  up  of  annexes  and 
tracts  of  cultivated  ground  joined  to  woodland.  It  was 
a  strange  estate,  in  which  his  tastes,  ambitions,  and  Eng- 
lish eccentricity  were  revealed,  and  which  was  deformed 
and  made  more  unshapely  still  by  bourgeois  ideas  and 
pretentious  attempts  at  art. 

Around  the  main  house  to  the  upper  stories  —  which 
had  been  lately  added,  as  was  plainly  seen  —  extended 
an  Italian  terrace  with  a  marble  balustrade,  flanked  by  two 
Gothic  towers,  leading  by  a  covered  bridge  to  another 
row  of  buildings,  representing  a  chalet  with  open-work 
balconies,  and  a  curtain  of  climbing  ivy.  This  was  of 
brick,  painted  in  stucco,  like  a  toy-house  in  the  Black 
Forest,  with  a  wealth  of  towers,  embattlements,  weather- 
vanes,  and  moucharabies .  In  the  park  there  was  a  dis- 
play of  bristling  kiosks  and  belvederes,  and  dazzling  hot- 
houses and  ponds,  and  the  black  bastion  of  an  immense 
reservoir  for  supplying  water  to  the  heights,  which  was 
surmounted  by  a  real  windmill,  whose  sails,  sensible  to  the 
slightest  breeze,  flapped  and  turned  on  their  axis  with  a 
perpetual  grating. 

Indeed,  in  the  narrow  space  through  which  the  trains 
pass  in  this  suburb  of  Paris,  many  burlesque  villas,  framed 


Il8  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

in  the  glass  window  of  the  car,  flit  by  like  visions  and 
nightmares,  —  the  effort  of  a  shopkeeper's  brain  escaped 
from  business,  and  gambolling.  But  none  are  to  be  com- 
pared to  Tom  Levis's  "  Folly,"  unless  it  be  that  villa  of 
his  neighbor  Spricht,  —  the  great  Spricht,  the  illustrious 
dressmaker  for  ladies. 

This  pompous  personage  only  remains  in  Paris  during 
the  three  business-hours  in  the  afternoon,  when  he  gives 
his  dainty  consultations  in  his  grand  office  on  the  boule- 
vards ;  then  immediately  returns  to  his  house  at  Cour- 
bevoie.  The  secret  of  this  forced  retirement  is,  that 
" le  cher  Spricht,"  the  "  dear''  as  the  ladies  call  him,  — 
although  he  has  in  his  drawers,  among  wonderful  samples 
of  Lyonnese  fabrics,  specimens  of  handwriting  and  scrawls 
from  the  best  gloved  hands  in  Paris,  —  has  been  obliged 
to  content  himself  with  no  more  than  this  intimate  cor- 
respondence, as  he  is  received  in  none  of  the  houses 
where  he  supplies  costumes ;  and  his  fine  connections 
have  spoiled  him  for  all  intercourse  with  the  commercial 
world  of  which  he  is  a  part.  Therefore  he  lives  very 
retired  in  his  home,  which  is  invaded,  like  that  of  all 
parvenus,  by  a  host  of  poor  relations,  and  uses  his 
wealth  to  have  them  royally  entertained.  His  only  diver- 
sion, and  what  would  be  a  flavor  necessary  to  the  life  of 
a  retired  spendthrift,  is  the  neighborhood  and  rivalry  of 
Tom  Levis,  and  the  hatred  and  scorn  which  they  mutu- 
ally vowed  for  each  other  without  hardly  knowing  why, 
which  made  all  understanding  between  them  impossible. 

When  Spricht  erects  a  tower,  —  Spricht  is  a  German, 
and  loves  the  romantic,  castles,  valleys,  and  ruins,  and 
has  a  passion  for  the  middle  ages,  —  Tom  Levis  immedi- 
ately has  a  veranda  built.  When  Tom  builds  a  wall, 
Spricht  tears  down  all  his  hedges. 


J.    rOM  LEVIS,   AGENT  FOR  FOREIGNERS.      119 

There  is  a  story  in  regard  to  a  pavilion  built  by  Tom 
which  spoiled  Spricht's  view  towards  Saint  Cloud.  The 
dressmaker  then  raised  the  balcony  of  his  pigeon-house. 
Tom  responded  by  a  new  story  ;  but  Spricht  did  not  con- 
sider himself  beaten,  and  the  two  edifices,  with  a  great 
re-enforcement  of  stones  and  workmen,  continued  their 
ascension  till  one  fine  night,  when  the  wind  threw  them 
both  down  without  any  difficulty,  on  account  of  their  frail 
construction.  Spricht,  on  his  return  from  a  journey  to 
Italy,  brings  back  a  gondola,  —  a  real  gondola,  —  and 
places  it  in  the  little  harbor  at  the  foot  of  his  estate.  A 
week  afterwards,  pft  1  pft !  a  pretty  steam-yacht  with  sails 
comes  to  Tom  Levis's  wharf,  and  stirs  the  water  in  which 
the  towers,  roofs,  and  battlements  of  his  villa  are  reflected. 

To  support  such  style  as  this  it  would  have  been  neces- 
sary that  the  empire  should  last  forever ;  and  its  last  hour 
had  come.  The  war,  the  siege,  and  the  departure  of 
foreigners,  were  a  veritable  disaster  to  the  two  business- 
men, especially  for  Tom  Levis,  whose  estate  was  devas- 
tated by  the  invasion,  while  that  of  Spricht  was  spared. 
But,  when  peace  was  made,  war  began  again  between  the 
two  rivals ;  and  this  time  their  fortunes  were  unequal,  the 
great  modiste  having  seen  all  his  patrons  return,  and  poor 
Tom  having  waited  in  vain  for  his.  The  notice,  "  Infor- 
mation, secrecy,  despatch,"  brought  no  more,  or  hardly 
any  more ;  and  the  mysterious  manager  no  longer  came 
clandestinely  to  get  pay  at  the  offices  of  the  agency. 
Any  other  in  Tom  Levis's  place  would  have  checked 
himself;  but  this  devil  of  a  fellow  had  habits  of  spending 
money  which  he  could  not  conquer,  and  a  certain  some- 
thing about  his  hands  which  prevented  them  from  closing. 

And  then  the  Sprichts  were  there,  dismal  enough  since 
late  events,  declaring  that  the  end  of  the  world  was  near ; 


T  20  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

and,  having  built  at  the  end  of  their  park  a  small  repre- 
sentation of  the  ruins  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville  with  its 
crumbled  walls  blackened  by  flames,  on  Sunday  even- 
ing they  illuminated  it  with  Bengal  lights,  and  all  the 
Sprichts  gathered  around  it  to  lament.  It  was  very 
gloomy. 

Tom  Levis,  on  the  contrary,  having  become  a  repub- 
lican through  hatred  of  his  rival,  y?/<?^ regenerated  France, 
organized  pleasure-excursions  and  regattas  and  crowned 
rosieres  ;  and  on  one  of  these  coronations,  in  an  outburst 
of  luxurious  joy,  he  carried  off  one  summer  evening  at 
the  concert-hour  the  band  of  the  Champs  Elys^es,  and 
brought  it  to  Courbevoie,  playing  on  the  water,  in  a  yacht 
with  all  sails  flying. 

Debts  accumulated  by  such  doings  ;  but  the  Englishman 
troubled  himself  little  about  them.  No  one  understood 
better  than  he  how  to  disconcert  creditors  by  coolness 
and  lordly  independence.  No  one  —  not  even  the  clerks 
in  his  agency,  who  held  their  heads  quite  as  high  —  had 
his  way  of  examining  bills  curiously,  as  if  they  were  pal- 
impsest, and  tossing  them  into  the  drawer  with  a  lofty  air ; 
no  one  had  his  tricks  to  avoid  payment  and  to  gain  time. 
Time  !  it  was  that  which  Tom  Levis  counted  on  in  which  to 
find  some  fruitful  operation  again.  —  what  he  called  "a  big 
strike  "  in  the  figurative  slang  in  the  Bohemia  of  money. 
But  it  was  in  vain  that  he  took  a  cab,  or  ran  nervously 
about  Paris  with  his  watchful  eye  and  long  teeth,  looking 
like  some  animal  scenting  and  waiting  for  his  prey.  The 
years  passed,  and  the  "big  strike  "  was  not  made. 

One  afternoon,  when  the  agency  was  crowded  with 
people,  a  tall  young  man  with  a  haughty,  languid  appear- 
ance, quizzing  eyes,  and  a  delicate  mustache  on  the  pale, 
bloated,  but  handsome  face,  approached  the  principal 
gate,  and  asked  to  see  Tom  Levis. 


y.    TOM  LEVIS,   AGENT  FOR  FOREIGNERS.      121 

The  clerk,  mistaking  the  cavaUer  intention  which  lay 
beneath  the  request,  beUeved  him  to  be  a  creditor,  and 
put  on  his  most  disdainful  look ;  when  the  young  man, 
with  a  sharp  voice,  whose  nasal  tone  increased  its  imperti- 
nence, declared  to  the  "  swell  fellow  "  that  he  might  notify 
his  patron  at  once  that  the  King  of  lUyria  wished  to  speak 
to  him.  "  Ah,  your  Majesty  !  your  Majesty  !  "  There 
was  an  eager  stir  among  the  cosmopolitan  crowd,  who 
had  some  curiosity  regarding  the  hero  of  Ragusa.  From 
all  the  open  boxes  came  a  swarm  of  clerks  hurrying  for- 
ward to  do  escort  to  his  Majesty,  and  to  introduce  him  to 
Tom  Levis,  who  had  not  yet  arrived,  but  was  Ukely  to 
come  in  at  any  moment. 

It  was  the  first  time  Christian  appeared  at  the  agency, 
the  old  Duke  de  Rosen  having  till  now  settled  all  the  bills 
of  the  little  court.  But  to-day  the  business  was  of  such 
a  private  and  delicate  nature,  that  the  king  did  not  dare 
to  confide  it  even  to  the  heavy  but  discreet  aide-de-camp, 
— a  little  house  to  be  hired  for  a  circus-rider,  who  had  just 
taken  Amy  F^rat's  place ;  a  furnished  pavilion  ready  for 
occupancy  in  twenty-four  hours,  with  service,  a  stable,  and 
certain  facilities  of  access.  It  was  one  of  those  master- 
strokes which  the  Levis  Agency  alone  knew  how  to  make. 

The  salon  where  he  waited  contained  just  two  large 
arm-chairs  in  moleskin ;  and  one  of  those  fireplaces 
lighted  by  gas,  narrow  and  silent,  whose  reflection  seemed 
to  come  from  a  fire  in  the  next  room ;  and  a  little  stand 
with  a  blue  cloth,  with  a  Bottin  almanac  lying  upon  it. 
Half  of  the  room  was  taken  up  by  the  tall  railing,  which 
was  draped  with  blue  curtains ;  and  by  a  desk  carefully 
placed,  and  showing  above  itself  the  great  book  with  steel 
corners  standing  open  under  a  paper  weight,  and  sur- 
rounded by  sand-powder,  erasers,  rulers,  and  pen-wipers ; 


122  KINGS  IN  EX/LE. 

and  by  a  long  case  full  of  books  of  the  same  size,  —  the 
books  of  the  agency,  with  their  green  backs,  in  a  row, 
looking  like  Prussians  on  parade.  The  order  in  this 
small,  hospitable  place,  the  freshness  of  the  things  that 
filled  it,  did  honor  to  the  old  cashier,  who  was  absent  for 
a  short  time,  and  whose  life,  full  of  details,  was  passed 
there. 

While  the  king  continued  to  wait,  lounging  in  his  arm- 
chair, his  head  raised  from  his  furs,  all  at  once,  without  a 
movement  of  the  glass  door  leading  into  the  store,  he 
noticed  a  light,  quick  scratching  of  the  pen  behind  the 
railing,  which  was  closed  with  a  large  Algerian  curtain, 
with  a  harlequin's  hole  like  that  of  the  drop-curtain  in  a 
theatre.  Some  one  was  seated  at  the  desk :  not  the 
old  clerk  with  the  face  of  a  white  wolf,  for  whom  the 
niche  seemed  made,  but  the  most  charming  little  body 
that  ever  turned  the  pages  of  a  ledger.  At  Christian's 
movement  of  surprise,  she  turned  around,  measured  him 
with  her  sweet,  deliberate  look,  —  a  look  so  prolonged  that 
a  little  spark  in  the  corner  of  each  eye  seemed  to  radiate 
to  the  temples.  The  whole  room  was  illuminated  by  this 
look,  and  was  musically  charmed  by  a  feeling  and  almost 
trembling  voice,  which  murmured,  "  My  husband  keeps 
you  waiting  a  long  time,  your  Majesty." 

Tom  Levis  her  husband  !  the  husband  of  that  agreea- 
ble creature  with  the  delicate,  pale  profile,  and  the  full, 
graceful  oudines  of  a  statuette  of  Tanagra  !  How  came 
she  there  alone  in  that  cage  turning  over  the  leaves  of 
those  great  books,  whose  whiteness  was  reflected  on  her 
colorless  complexion,  and  whose  pages  her  little  fingers 
could  with  difficulty  turn  over,  and  doing  all  this  on  one 
of  those  beautiful,  sunny  February  days  of  which  along 
the   boulevard  fair  promenaders  were   profiting  to  dis- 


y.    TOM  LEVIS,   AGENT  FOR  FOREIGNERS.      1 23 

play  their  toilets,  sprightly  graces,  and  smiles?  As  he 
approached  her,  he  made  some  kind  of  a  remark,  in  which 
his  various  impressions  were  confusedly  expressed;  but 
his  heart  beat  so  that  he  could  not  talk,  and  was  stirred 
by  a  sudden,  ungovernable  desire,  such  as  this  spoiled, 
blase  child  never  remembered  to  have  had.  It  was 
because  the  type  of  this  woman,  who  was  twenty-five  or 
thirty  years,  was  absolutely  new  to  him,  and  as  different 
from  little  Colette  de  Rosen,  with  her  rebellious  curis,  as 
from  the  girhsh  poise  of  La  F^rat  with  her  impudent 
eyes  with  painted  circles  beneath,  and  from  the  embar- 
rassing majesty  of  the  queen,  whose  manner  was  noble 
and  sad.  Neither  coquetry  nor  boldness  nor  proud  re- 
serve did  she  show,  —  nothing  like  what  he  met  in  refined 
society,  or  in  his  relations  with  the  demi-monde.  This 
pretty  person  —  with  her  calm,  domestic  ways,  with  her 
beautiful  dark  hair,  as  smooth  as  that  of  women  who 
dress  it  in  the  morning  for  the  day  —  was  simply  attired 
in  a  woollen  dress  shading  on  violet.  Two  very  large 
brilliants  on  the  rosy  tips  of  her  ears  alone  prevented  one 
from  taking  her  to  be  the  most  modest  of  clerks.  She 
appeared  to  him,  in  the  imprisonment  of  her  desk  and 
work,  like  a  Carmelite  behind  the  grating  of  a  cloister,  or 
some  Oriental  slave  looking  imploringly  through  the 
gilded  railing  of  her  terrace.  She  had  the  submissive 
timidity  of  the  slave,  as  well  as  the  sloping  profile,  and 
the  amber  tints  of  skin  where  the  hair  began ;  while  the 
straight  line  of  the  eyebrows,  and  parted  lips,  gave  an 
Asiatic  look  to  this  Parisian  woman.  Christian,  as  he 
stood  opposite  her,  thought  of  the  bare  forehead  and 
monkeyfied  appearance  of  the  husband.  How  happened 
she  to  be  in  the  power  of  such  2,fantoche  ?  Was  it  not  a 
theft,  —  a  flagrant  injustice? 
9 


124  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

But  the  sweet  voice  continued  to  slowly  proffer  ex- 
cuses :  "  It  is  very  provoking  Tom  does  not  come.  If 
your  Majesty  would  only  tell  me  what  brings  you  here,  I 
might,  perhaps  "  — 

Christian  blushed,  feeling  a  little  embarrassed.  He 
never  would  have  dared  to  trust  this  frank  kindness,  and 
tell  her  of  the  rather  equivocal  establishment  he  medi- 
tated. She  then  insisted,  faintly  smiling :  "  Oh  !  your 
Majesty  need  have  no  fear.  It  is  I  who  keep  the 
agency's  books." 

And  it  was  plain  to  be  seen  that  she  had  authority ;  for 
every  other  moment  a  clerk  would  come  to  the  little 
bull's-eye  window  which  gave  communication  between 
the  private  room  of  the  cashier  and  the  store,  and  whisper 
the  oddest  information :  "  Madame  Karitidds  Pleyel  is 
wanted ; "  "  The  person  from  the  Bristol  Hotel  was 
there."  She  seemed  to  understand  every  thing,  answer- 
ing with  a  word  or  a  figure.  And  the  king,  feeUng  very 
much  disturbed,  wondered  if  this  angel  in  the  shop  —  this 
aerial  being — really  knew  the  Englishman's  plots  and 
filibustering. 

"  No,  Madame :  the  business  that  brings  me  is  not 
urgent,  or  at  least  is  no  longer  so.  My  ideas  have 
changed  very  much  in  the  past  hour." 

He  leans  over  the  railing  as  he  whispers  this,  very 
much  moved ;  then  stops,  and  reproaches  himself  for  his 
audacity  in  the  presence  of  this  woman  with  her  calm 
activity,  and  with  her  long  lashes  sweeping  the  pages, 
while  her  pen  glides  on  in  regular  lines.  Oh,  how  he 
would  like  to  take  her  from  her  prison,  and  carry  her 
away  in  his  arms,  —  far  away,  —  murmuring  tender  and 
caressing  words,  such  as  one  uses  to  comfort  little  chil- 
dren !    The  temptation  was  so  great  that  he  was  obliged 


y.    TOM  LEVIS,   AGENT  FOR  FOREIGNERS.      125 

to  avoid  it,  and  take  a  sudden  leave,  without  having  seen 
Tom  Levis. 

Night  came  on  foggy  and  chilly;  but  the  king,  who 
was  usually  so  sensitive  to  cold,  did  not  feel  it,  and  sent 
his  carriage  away,  and  returned  on  foot  to  the  Royal 
Club  by  the  broad  streets  which  go  from  the  Madeleine 
to  the  Place  Vendome ;  and  was  so  transported  with 
enthusiasm,  that  he  talked  aloud  to  himself,  while  the 
locks  of  his  fine  hair  fell  down  over  his  eyes,  before 
which  flames  were  dancing.  In  the  street  sometimes  one 
brushes  by  people  who  are  filled  with  this  exuberant 
happiness,  and,  walking  along  with  a  light  step  and  head 
erect,  seem  to  leave  a  phosphorescence  on  your  clothing 
as  they  pass. 

Christian  reached  the  club,  still  in  the  same  happy 
mood  in  spite  of  the  gloom  of  the  row  of  salons  where 
gathered  the  shadows  of  the  vague,  idle  hour  of  twilight, 
which  is  particularly  melancholy  in  these  half-public 
places,  where  one  misses  the  social,  familiar  home-atmos- 
phere. 

Lamps  were  brought.  In  the  distance  were  heard  the 
sounds  of  a  quiet  game  of  billiards,  with  the  rattling  of 
ivory  resounding  against  the  hollow  walls,  a  rustling  of 
newspapers  laid  aside  after  being  read,  and  the  weary 
breathing  of  some  one  asleep  on  a  lounge  in  the  grand 
salo7i  whom  the  king  disturbed  as  he  entered,  and  caused 
to  turn  round  and  open  his  toothless  mouth  in  a  yawn, 
with  an  endless  stretching  of  his  long,  slender  arms,  while 
at  the  same  time  he  asked  in  a  dull  voice,  — 

"  What's  up  to-night  ?  " 

Christian  gave  a  cry  of  joy. 

"  Ah  !  my  prince,  I  was  looking  for  you." 

His  delight  was  owing  to   the   fact  that   the    Prince 


126  KINGS  TN  EXILE. 

d'Axel,  more  familiarly  known  as  Queue  de  Poule,  hav- 
ing paraded  Parisian  sidewalks  as  an  amateur  for  ten 
years,  knew  them  up  and  down  and  across,  from  the 
steps  of  Tortoni  to  the  gutter,  and  no  doubt  could  give 
him  the  information  he  wished.  Therefore,  knowing 
the  only  way  to  unburden  that  heavy,  torpid  mind  which 
the  wines  of  France  —  which  the  prince  abused,  how- 
ever —  succeeded  in  stirring  no  better  than  the  fermenta- 
tion of  the  vintage  can  swell  and  raise  a  heavy  thunderbolt 
into  a  balloon.  Christian  quickly  asked  him  for  cards ; 
for,  like  Moliere's  heroines  who  have  no  wit  without  a 
fan  in  their  hands.  Axel  only  showed  Hfe  while  shuffling 
the  pasteboard.  The  fallen  and  the  presumptive  majes- 
ties being  in  disgrace,  the  two  celebrities  of  the  club 
began  a  game  of  Chinese  bezique  before  dinner,  —  the 
most  swell  game  in  the  world,  because  it  does  not  tire  the 
head,  and  permits  the  most  awkward  player  to  lose  a  for- 
tune without  the  least  effort. 

"  So  Tom  Levis  is  married  ?  "  asked  Christian  II.  care- 
lessly, as  he  cut  the  cards.  Axel  looked  at  him  with  his 
dull  eyes,  with  their  reddened  lids. 

"  Did  you  not  know  it?  " 

"  No.     Who  is  the  woman  ?  " 

"  Sephora  Leemans,  a  celebrity." 

The  king  trembled  at  the  name  Sephora. 

"Is  she  a  Jewess?" 

"  Probably." 

There  was  a  moment's  pause.  Truly  the  impression  — 
with  the  oval,  colorless  face  of  a  recluse,  sparkling  eyes, 
and  glossy,  bewitching  tresses  —  that  Sephora  left  must 
have  been  very  strong  to  triumph  over  the  prejudice 
which  had  existed  in  the  memory  of  the  Slavonian  and 
Catholic,  whose  childhood  was  haunted  by  the  pillage  and 


y.    TOM  LEVIS,   AGENT  FOR  FOREIGNERS.      127 

fiendish  sorcery  of  the  Bohemian  Jews  of  his  country. 
He  continued  his  questions.  Unfortunately  the  prince 
was  losing,  and,  being  thoroughly  absorbed  in  his  game, 
grumbled  from  behind  his  long  yellow  beard,  — 

"  Ah  !  but  I  am  getting  bothered  :  I  am  bothered." 

It  was  impossible  to  get  another  word  out  of  him. 

"  Good  !  here  is  Wattelet.  Come  here,  Wattelet,"  said 
the  king  to  a  tall  youth  who  had  just  entered  as  frisky 
and  noisy  as  a  young  puppy. 

This  Wattelet,  the  painter  of  the  Royal  Club  and  high 
life,  who  was  rather  handsome  at  a  distance,  but  whose 
features  looked  worn  and  showed  the  marks  of  a  fast 
life,  represented  the  modem  artist,  who  bears  very  little 
resemblance  to  the  brilliant  tradition  of  1830.  Correctly 
dressed  from  head  to  foot,  a  news-bringer  in  salons  and 
green-rooms,  he  preserved  nothing  of  the  rapin  ^  of  the 
studio,  but  the  supple,  rather  ungainly,  gait  and  dress  of 
a  man  of  the  world ;  and  in  his  mind,  as  in  his  language, 
there  was  the  same  elegant  indistinctness,  with  a  careless, 
mocking  pucker  of  the  lips.  Having  come  to  the  club 
one  day  to  decorate  the  dining-room,  he  made  himself 
so  agreeable  and  so  indispensable  to  all  these  gentlemen, 
that  he  remained  with  the  house  the  organizer  for  life  of 
games  and  of  the  rather  monotonous  fetes  of  the  place, 
bringing  to  these  pleasures  the  surprises  of  a  picturesque 
imagination,  and  an  education  obtained  from  every  kind 
of  society. 

"My  dear  Wattelet.  My  little  Wattelet."  No  one 
could  do  without  him.  He  was  intimate  with  all  the 
members  of  the  club,  with  their  \vives  and  mistresses. 
He  sketched  on  the  right  side  of  a  card  the  costume  of 
the  Duchess  of  V for  the  next  ball  of  the  embassy, 

*  A  pupil  who  li  tlic  drudge  of  the  studio. 


128  KINGS  TN  EXILE. 

and,  on  the  other  side,  the  airy  skirts  and  the  flesh-colored 
tights  of  Mademoiselle  Alzere,  the  duke's  little  musk-rat. 

Thursdays  his  studio  was  open  to  all  his  noble  patrons, 
who  enjoyed  the  freedom  with  the  unrestrained  fanciful 
talk  of  the  house,  the  dazzle  of  soft  colors  from  the  tap- 
estries, collections,  lacquered  furniture,  and  the  artist's 
canvases,  —  a  painting  which  resembled  himself,  elegant 
but  a  trifle  common ;  some  portraits  of  women,  for  the 
most  part  executed  with  an  understanding  of  the  Parisian 
frauds,  —  disguised  complexions,  disordered,  fluffy  locks, 
and  all  the  furbelows  in  the  form  of  puffs  and  sweeping 
trains  and  airy  bits  of  floating  ribbon,  which  made 
Spricht  say,  with  the  disdainful  condescension  of  the 
parvenu  business-man  towards  a  rising  artist,  — 

"  No  one  but  this  little  fellow  knows  how  to  paint  the 
women  I  dress." 

At  the  first  word  the  king  uttered,  Wattelet  began  to 
laugh. 

"  But,  your  Majesty,  it  is  little  Sephora." 

"  Do  you  know  her? " 

"  Perfectly." 

"  Tell  me  about  her." 

And,  while  the  game  between  the  two  great  lords  con- 
tinued, the  painter,  placed  on  terms  of  intimacy  of  which 
he  was  very  proud,  sitting  astride  a  chair,  posed,  coughed, 
and,  assuming  the  voice  of  the  showman  who  describes 
the  painted  canvas  of  a  side-show,  began  :  — 

"  Sephora  Leemans  was  born  in  Paris  in  eighteen  hun- 
dred forty-five,  six,  or  seven,  among  the  brokers  in  the 
Rue  Eginhard  in  the  Marais,  —  a  dirty  little  mouldy  lane, 
between  Charlemagne  Street  and  Saint  Paul's  Church,  in 
the  very  heart  of  the  Jewish  colony.  Some  day,  when 
you  are  coming  from  Saint  Mand6,  your  Majesty  must 


y.    TOM  LEVIS,   AGENT  FOR  FOREIGNERS.      129 

make  your  coachman  turn  down  these  streets,  and  you 
will  see  a  part  of  Paris  that  will  astonish  you,  —  houses 
and  faces,  an  Alsatian  and  Hebrew  medley,  shops,  old- 
clothes  dens,  and  a  pile  of  rags  as  high  as  that  before 
each  door ;  old  women  poking  their  crooked  noses  among 
them,  or  stripping  the  frames  of  old  umbrellas ;  and 
dogs,  vermin,  and  odors,  —  a  true  Ghetto  of  the  middle 
ages,  swarming  in  modern  houses,  with  iron  balconies 
and  high  dormer  windows.  Her  father  is  not  a  Jew, 
however,  but  a  Belgian  of  Ghent  and  a  Catholic :  and 
the  little  one  need  not  call  herself  Sephora ;  for  she  is  a 
half-breed  Jew,  with  the  complexion  and  eyes  of  her 
race,  but  without  the  hooked  nose.  On  the  contrary,  she 
has  the  prettiest  little  straight  nose.  I  do  not  know 
where  she  got  it  indeed ;  for  Leemans  has  a  regular 
Jewish  face.  My  first  medal  in  the  salon  had  just  such 
a  one.  Heavens  !  yes,  the  good  man  will  show  you  in  a 
corner  of  the  mean,  muddy  Rue  Eginhard, — in  what  he 
calls  his  broker's  office,  —  his  full-length  portrait,  signed 
'Wattelet,'  and  not  one  of  my  worst  either.  I  found  the 
way  to  gain  an  entrance  into  the  hovel,  and  to  pay  my 
court  to  Sephora,  for  whom  I  had  one  of  those  beguins."  ^ 

"  A  begtnn  ?  "  said  the  king,  to  whom  the  Parisian  dic- 
tionary always  caused  some  surprise.  "  Ah !  yes,  I 
understand.     Continue." 

"  I  was  not  the  only  flame,  you  may  be  sure.  All  day 
long  there  was  a  procession  in  the  Rue  de  la  Paix ;  for 
I  must  tell  you,  your  Majesty,  that  Leemans  in  those 
times  had  two  establishments.  The  old  man  was  verj^ 
shrewd,  and  understood   the  change  in  the  fashions   in 

1  Translator's  Note.  —  Beguin  means  "  weak  infatuation,"  from  the  name 
given  to  women  who  adopted  the  heresy  of  the  Beguins,  a  religious  order  in  the 
thirteenth  century. 


I30  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

regard  to  trinkets  during  the  last  twenty  years.  The 
romantic  second-hand  bric-a-brac  dealer  of  the  dingy 
quarters  after  the  style  of  Hoffman,  and  even  of  Balzac, 
has  given  place  to  the  merchant  of  curiosities  in  the 
wealthy  part  of  Paris,  where  there  are  well-lighted  show- 
windows.  Leemans  kept  his  musty  place  in  the  Rue 
Eginhard,  and  amateurs  continued  to  haunt  it ;  but  for 
the  public,  the  passers-by,  for  the  Parisian  follower  and 
swallower,  he  opened  a  superb  store  of  old  curiosities  in 
the  middle  of  the  Rue  de  la  Paix,  which,  with  tawny  gold 
and  deep  silver  of  old  jewels,  dingy  laces  the  color  of  a 
mummy,  outvied  modem  jewellers'  or  watchmakers'  es- 
tablishments sparkling  with  riches  on  the  same  street. 

"  Sephora  was  then  fifteen ;  and  all  these  ancient  things 
made  a  becoming  setting  to  her  quiet,  youthful  beauty. 
She  was  very  intelligent,  and  very  quick  in  showing  off  an 
article,  with  as  correct  an  eye  as  her  father  for  the  true 
value  of  a  trinket.  Ah  !  amateurs  came  to  the  shop  for 
the  pleasure  of  feeling  the  touch  of  her  fingers,  and  the 
silky  waves  of  her  hair,  as  they  leaned  over  the  same 
show-case.  The  mother,  who  was  not  in  the  way,  — an  old 
lady  with  so  dark  a  circle  under  her  eyes  that  she  looked 
as  if  she  had  on  spectacles,  —  always  held  her  nose  over 
some  piece  of  lace  or  old  tapestry-work,  and  paid  no 
attention  to  her  daughter.  And  in  this  she  was  quite 
right.  Sephora  was  a  serious  person,  whom  nothing 
could  turn  from  her  path." 

"  Indeed ! "  said  the  king,  who  appeared  to  be  de- 
lighted. 

"  Your  Majesty  can  judge  by  this.  Mother  Leemans 
slept  in  the  store ;  and  the  daughter  returned  to  the 
bric-a-brac  shop  by  ten  o'clock,  that  the  old  man  might 
not   be   alone.      Well,   this   admirable   creature,   whose 


y.    TOM  LEVIS,  AGENT  FOR  FOREIGNERS.      131 

beauty  was  celebrated  and  sung  in  all  the  papers,  and 
who  by  a  simple  nod  of  the  head  might  have  seen  Cin- 
derella's chariot  rise  up  before  her,  waited  every  evening 
for  the  omnibus  from  the  Madeleine,  and  returned  directly 
to  the  paternal  owl's  nest.  In  the  morning,  as  the  omni- 
bus did  not  pass  at  the  hour  she  left,  she  went  on  foot 
through  every  kind  of  weather,  with  a  water-proof  over 
her  black  dress ;  and  I  would  swear  that  among  all  the 
crowd  of  shop-girls  who  go  down  the  Rue  de  Rivoli 
Saint  Antoine  with  hood,  hat,  or  bareheaded,  wth  pale 
or  smiling  faces  and  small  dewy  mouths,  and  coughing 
in  the  foggy  air,  with  some  gallant  always  at  their  heels, 
none  could  compare  with  her." 

"What  time  did  she  use  to  go  that  way  ?"  mumbled 
the  royal  prince,  very  much  enamoured. 

But  Christian  grew  impatient. 

"  Let  him  finish.     And  then  "  — 

"Then,  your  Majesty,  I  succeeded  in  gaining  ad- 
mittance into  my  angel's  house,  and  I  mildly  pushed  my 
point.  On  Sundays  they  organized  little  family  games 
of  loto  with  a  few  old  clothes-dealers  in  Charlemagne 
Street.  A  fine  society  it  was.  I  invariably  brought  away 
fleas.  But  I  always  seated  myself  near  Sephora,  and 
touched  her  knee  under  the  table,  while  she  looked  at 
me  with  a  certain  angelic,  limpid  look  in  her  eyes,  which 
made  me  believe  she  possessed  the  innocence  and  frank- 
ness of  true  virtue. 

"One  day,  when  I  arrived  at  the  Rue  Eginhard,  I 
found  the  shop  topsy-turvy ;  the  mother  in  tears ;  while 
the  father,  in  a  passion,  was  cleaning  an  old  lock-musket, 
with  which  he  intended  to  shoot  the  infamous  eloper : 
for  the  little  one  had  run  off  with  Baron  Sala,  one  of 
Leeman's  richest  patrons ;  but  I  learned  later  that  the 


132  A'/NGS  IN  EXILE. 

daughter  had  been  sold  hke  some  ancient  jewel.  For 
two  or  three  years  Sephora  concealed  her  happiness  and 
amours  with  this  septuagenarian  in  Switzerland,  in  Scot- 
land, on  the  borders  of  the  blue  lakes.  Then  I  heard  one 
fine  morning  that  she  had  returned,  and  was  keeping  a 
family  hotel  at  the  end  of  the  Avenue  d'Antin.  I  hastened 
there  to  see  her,  and  found  my  old  flame,  still  adorable 
and  calm  in  her  manners,  occupying  the  head  of  a  very 
queer  table  d'hote,  where  were  gathered  Brazilians, 
Englishmen,  and  cocottes.  Half  of  the  guests  were  still 
eating  dessert,  while  the  other  half  had  turned  away  the 
table-cloth  to  attack  a  game  of  cards.  It  was  here  that 
Sephora  became  acquainted  with  Tom  Levis,  who  was 
not  handsome  or  young,  and  without  a  cent  into  the 
bargain.  How  did  he  get  round  her?  Well,  that  is  a 
mystery.  One  thing  I  do  know,  however,  and  that  is,  she 
sold  her  property  for  him,  married  him,  and  helped  him 
to  establish  the  agency,  which  at  first  was  prosperous  and 
elegantly  fitted  up,  but  is  now  losing ;  so  that  Sephora, 
who  never  used  to  be  seen,  and  lived  hke  a  recluse  in  the 
queer  castle  bought  by  Tom  Levis,  made  her  appearance 
before  the  world  again  a  few  months  ago,  playing  the  role 
of  the  most  delightful  little  book-keeper.  And,  bless  me  ! 
how  the  patronage  increased  !  The  flower  of  the  clubs 
began  to  make  rendezvous  in  the  Rue  Royale.  They 
flirted  through  the  railing  around  the  desk  as  they  used 
to  do  in  the  shop  of  antiquities,  or  the  room  bearing  on 
the  door  the  number  and  name  of  the  "  family."  As  for 
me,  I  am  no  longer  one  of  her  admirers  :  she  frightened 
me  at  last.  She  was  just  the  same  that  she  had  been  for 
ten  years,  not  a  crease  or  Avrinkle  on  her  face,  which  was 
fresh  and  full  under  her  eyes  with  the  long,  drooping 
lashes,  which  turned  up  at  the  end  in  a  way  that  would 


yr.    TOM  LEVIS,   AGENT  FOR  FOREIGNERS.      133 

melt  your  heart.  And  all  this  for  this  grotesque  husband 
whom  she  adores.  It  is  enough  to  torment  and  discour- 
age the  most  enamoured." 

The  king  rattled  the  cards  scornfully. 

"  Come,  now :  is  it  possible  ?  An  ugly  monkey,  a 
poussah  like  Tom  Levis,  bald,  and  fifteen  years  older  than 
she,  —  a  pickpocket,  who  speaks  French  with  such  an 
abominable  English  accent  !  " 

"  But  some  people  like  that,  your  Majesty." 

And  the  prince  royal,  with  his  drawhng,  common  tone 
of  voice,  said, — 

"  I  won't  have  any  thing  to  do  with  the  woman.  I 
have  whistled  to  the  moon  long  enough.  The  way  is 
blocked." 

"  Fardieii,  d'Axel !  We  know  your  way  of  whistling 
to  the  moon,"  said  Christian,  when  he  comprehended 
this  expression,  which  had  passed  from  the  slang  of  the 
mechanic  into  that  of  the  high-toned  swell.  "  You  have 
no  patience.  The  way  must  be  open  to  you  at  the 
Grand  Seize.  But  I  assert  that  a  man  who  would  take 
the  pains  to  be  in  love  with  Sephora,  who  would  not  grow 
weary  of  silence  and  scorn,  would  find  it  but  the  affair  of 
a  month,  —  no  longer." 

"  I  bet  you  he  wouldn't,"  said  d'Axel. 

"How  much?" 

"Two  thousand  louis." 

"  I  take  it  up.     Wattelet,  call  for  the  book." 

This  book,  on  which  were  inscribed  the  bets  of  the 
Royal  Club,  was  as  curious  and  instructive  in  its  way  as 
those  in  the  Levis  den.  The  greatest  names  of  the 
French  aristocracy  sanctioned  the  oddest  and  silliest  bets, 
—  that  of  the  Duke  of  Courson-Launay,  for  example, 
who,  having  bet  and  lost  all  the  hair  on  his  body,  was 


134  iriNGS  IN  EX/LE. 

obliged  to  peel  himself  like  a  Moor,  and  for  a  fortnight 
could  neither  walk  nor  sit  down.  There  were  other 
wagers  still  more  extravagant ;  and  signatures  of  heroes 
inscribed  on  a  hundred  glorious  parchments  were  de- 
graded in  this  album  of  folly. 

Several  members  of  the  club  grouped  with  respectful 
curiosity  around  the  bettors ;  and  this  ridiculous  and 
cynical  bet,  excusable  perhaps  in  the  fun  or  intoxication 
of  overflowing  youth,  took,  in  the  presence  of  the  gravity 
of  all  these  bald  heads,  the  social  dignity  which  they  rep- 
resented, and  the  heraldic  importance  of  the  signatures 
attached,  the  appearance  of  an  international  treaty  regu- 
lating the  destinies  of  Europe. 

It  read  thus  :  — 

"  On  the  J d  of  February,  187^,  his  Majesty  Christian 
II.  has  bet  two  thousand  louis  that  before  the  end  of  the 
present  month  Sephora  L.  will  be  his. 

"  His  Royal  Highness  the  Prince  d'Axel  takes  the  bet.'' 

"This  perhaps  was  an  occasion  for  signing  '  Rigolo ' 
and  '  Queue  de  Poule,'  "  said  Wattelet  to  himself,  carrying 
back  the  book  ;  and  across  his  worldly,  clownish  face 
flitted  the  shadow  of  a  wicked  smile. 


THE  BOHEMIA    OF  EXILE.  1 35 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE    BOHEMIA    OF   EXILE. 

"  Well,  well  !  we  know  that !  '  Adh  /  Yes  :  Goddam 
—  Schoking.'  It  is  when  you  wish  neither  to  pay  nor 
answer  that  you  make  use  of  that  coin.  But  with  Bibi 
that  no  longer  makes  any  impression.  Let  us  settle  our 
accounts,  old  miser." 

"  Truly,  Master  Lebeau,  vd  pdlez  a  mod  avec  one  vehe- 
mence.^^ ^ 

And  to  utter  this  word  "vehemence,''  which  he  seemed 
very  proud  of  having  added  to  his  vocabulary,  —  for  he 
repeated  it  two  or  three  times  in  succession,  —  Tom  Levis 
threw  himself  back,  and  his  drooping  chin  disappeared  in 
the  large,  white,  clerg>Tnan's  cravat  which  choked  him. 

At  the  same  time  the  pupils  in  his  widely  open  eyes 
began  to  turn  round  and  round,  making  their  expression 
still  more  unfathomable,  while  his  adversary's  look,  which 
was  cringing  and  fawning  under  his  lowered  eyelids,  an- 
swered the  rascally  fluency  of  the  Englishman  with  the 
cunning  which  was  still  visible  in  his  narrow,  smooth, 
weasel  face. 

With  his  light,  frizzly  hair,  and  clothing  austerely  black 
and  high  in  the  neck,  and  the  correctness  of  his  circum- 
spect bearing.  Master  Lebeau  had  something  of  the  look 
of  an  agent  of  the  ancient  chdtelet ;  but,  as  there  is  noth- 
ing like  debates  and  selfish  anger  to  show  natures  as  they 

*  You  speak  to  me  with  vehemence. 


136  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

are,  in  the  present  moment  this  well-brought-up  man,  who 
was  as  poHshed  as  his  finger-nails,  —  the  unctuous  Lebeau, 
the  pet  of  royal  antechambers,  the  former  footman  in  the 
Tuileries,  —  showed  what  a  hateful  rogue  he  was,  always 
eager  for  gain. 

To  escape  a  spring  shower  which  was  flooding  the 
court-yard,  the  two  confederates  had  taken  refuge  in  the 
spacious  coach-house,  whose  walls,  freshly  whitewashed 
and  covered  half-way  up  with  thick  matting  which  pro- 
tected from  dampness  the  numerous  and  magnificent 
carriages  which  stood  in  a  row,  wheel  against  wheel,  from 
the  gala  coaches,  all  glass  and  gilt,  to  the  comfortable 
four-in-hand  with  a  hamper,  to  the  light  shopping  phaeton, 
and  to  the  sleigh  in  which  the  queen  drove  over  the  lakes 
when  they  were  frozen,  —  all  preserving,  in  repose  and  in 
the  dim  light  of  the  coach-house,  the  dashing  and  impos- 
ing appearance  of  creatures  of  luxury,  glittering  and 
costly  as  the  fantastic  horses  of  Assyrian  legends.  The 
adjoining  stables  from  which  were  heard  the  snorting  and 
loud  kicking  of  horses  against  the  wood-work,  the  partly 
opened  saddle-room  with  its  waxed  floor  and  wainscoting 
like  a  billiard-hall,  all  the  whips  in  the  rack,  the  harnesses 
and  saddles  on  wooden  horses,  glittering  with  steel  orna- 
ments, and  hung  like  trophies  around  the  walls  and  twined 
about  with  bridles,  completed  this  impression  of  comfort 
and  royal  style. 

Tom  and  Lebeau  were  conversing  in  a  comer ;  and  their 
voices  grew  loud,  and  mingled  with  the  noise  of  the  rain 
on  the  asphalt  walks.  The  valet-de-chambre  in  particular, 
who  felt  himself  at  home,  called  out  in  a  very  loud  voice, 
"  Did  any  one  understand  this  fiUbustering  of  Levis  ?  Who 
could  have  imagined  such  a  trick  ?  When  their  Majesties 
left  the  Hotel  des  Pyramides  for  Saint  Mand^,  who  at- 


THE  BOHEMIA    OF  EXILE.  137 

tended  to  the  business?  Was  it  Lebeau,  or  not?  And 
did  he  not  do  it  in  spite  of  every  one,  —  in  spite  of  open 
hostihty?  And  what  was  agreed  upon  on  returning? 
Were  we  not  to  divide  all  the  commissions,  all  the  wine- 
pots  of  the  tradespeople?     Come,  now  :  was  it  not  so?" 

"  Adh  !  yes  :  ce  etait  bien  cela.^^ 

"Then  why  do  you  cheat?" 

"  No,  no,  I  never  cheat,"  said  Tom  Levis,  with  his 
hand  on  his  chin. 

"  Come,  now,  old  humbug :  all  the  tradespeople  give 
you  forty  out  of  a  hundred.  I  have  proof  of  it;  and 
you  told  me  that  you  had  ten.  And,  out  of  the  million 
it  cost  to  move  into  Saint  Mand6,  I  have  my  five  out  of 
the  hundred,  —  that  is  fifty  thousand  francs ;  and  you 
have  your  thirty-five  of  the  hundred,  —  that  is  seven  times 
fifty  thousand  francs,  or  three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
francs  —  three  hundred  and  fifty  "  — 

He  was  choking  with  rage,  and  this  sum  seemed  to 
stick  in  his  throat.  Tom  tried  to  calm  him.  In  the  first 
place,  all  this  was  exaggerated ;  and  then  the  agent  had 
enormous  expenses.  His  rent  in  the  Rue  Royale  had  just 
been  increased, — so  much  money  out ;  and  it  was  very 
hard  to  collect  any  thing.  And  then  for  him  it  was  only 
a  temporary  affair,  while  Lebeau  had  a  permanent  posi- 
tion ;  and,  in  a  house  where  they  spent  more  than  two 
hundred  thousand  francs  a  year,  opportunities  for  profit 
were  not  wanting  :  but  the  valet-de-chambre  did  not  see  it 
in  that  light.  His  affairs  did  not  concern  any  one,  and 
you  may  be  sure  he  would  not  let  himself  be  cheated  by 
a  dirty  rascal  of  an  Englishman. 

"  Monsieur  Lebeau,  voiis  etes  one  impertinente.  J^e 
vole  pas  plus  longtemps  paler  avec  vous."  ^ 

1  "  Mr.  Lebeau,  you  are  an  unpertinent  fellow.  I  will  not  talk  with  you  any 
longer." 


138  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

And  Tom  Levis  started  as  if  to  go  to  the  door.  But 
the  other  blocked  his  way.  "Going  off  without  paying? 
Ah  !  no  you  won't !  "  His  lips  were  pale.  He  put  out 
his  face,  which  looked  like  that  of  an  angry  weasel,  and 
grumbled  at  the  F^nglishman,  who  was  still  very  calm,  and 
so  exasperatingly  cool,  that  at  last  the  valet-de-chambre, 
losing  all  moderation,  shook  his  fist  in  his  face  in  an 
insulting  manner. 

With  the  back  of  his  hand,  and  quick  as  the  parry  of  a 
sword,  and  with  more  of  French  than  English  boxing  in 
the  movement,  the  Englishman  struck  down  the  fist,  and 
said  in  the  purest  tone  of  the  Faubourg  Saint  Antoine,  — 

"  No  more  of  that,  Lisette,  or  I  fight." 

The  efTect  of  these  few  words  was  amazing.  Lebeau, 
stupefied,  looked  around  him  mechanically  to  see  if  it 
really  was  the  Englishman  who  had  spoken ;  then  his 
eyes,  glancing  back  at  Tom  Levis,  —  who  was  all  at  once 
very  red,  and  whose  eyes  were  rolling  round,  —  lighted  up 
with  mad  gayety,  though  flashing  with  anger  a  moment 
ago,  and  he  also  upset  the  gravity  of  the  business-agent. 

"  Oh,  you  cursed  cheat !  cursed  cheat !  I  might  have 
suspected  it.  You're  no  more  an  Englishman  than 
that." 

They  were  laughing  still  harder,  without  being  able  to 
stop  and  take  breath,  when  behind  them  the  door  of  the 
saddle-room  opened,  and  the  queen  appeared.  Having 
stopped  a  moment  in  the  next  room,  where  she  herself 
fastened  her  favorite  mare,  she  had  not  lost  a  word  of  the 
conversation.  Coming  from  one  so  beneath  her,  treach- 
ery troubled  her  but  little.  She  knew  by  long  experience 
what  to  expect  from  Lebeau,  this  cheating  valet,  the  wit- 
ness of  all  her  humiliations  and  all  her  poverty.  The 
other  —  the  man  in  the  cab — she  hardly  knew ;  for  he  was 


THE  BOHEMIA    OF  EXILE.  139 

a  tradesman.  But  these  men  had  just  given  her  knowl- 
edge of  strange  things.  So  moving  to  Saint  Mand^  cost  a 
milhon  ;  their  living,  which  they  thought  so  modest  and  so 
restricted,  two  hundred  thousand  francs  a  year,  and  they 
barely  had  forty  thousand.  How  was  it  they  had  been 
blinded  so  long  to  their  style  of  living,  and  the  inade- 
quacy of  their  real  income?  Who,  then,  met  all  these 
expenses  ?  Who  paid  for  all  this  luxury,  —  the  house,  the 
horses,  and  even  her  toilets  and  personal  charities? 
Shame  made  her  cheeks  bum  at  the  thought,  while  she 
went  directly  across  the  court-yard  in  the  rain,  and 
quickly  ascended  the  little  steps  of  the  intendant's 
house. 

Rosen,  who  was  occupied  in  arranging  bills,  on  which 
piles  of  louis  were  heaped,  on  seeing  her,  was  so  sur- 
prised that  he  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  No :  sit  still,"  said  the  queen  brusquely.  Leaning 
over  the  desk,  on  which  lay  her' hand  still  wearing  her  rid- 
ing-glove, she  said,  in  a  resolute,  urgent,  authoritative 
voice,  — 

"  Rosen,  what  have  we  lived  on  for  two  years  ?  Oh  ! 
no  evasions.  I  know  that  what  I  thought  was  hired  has 
all  been  bought  in  our  name,  and  paid  for.  I  know  that 
Saint  Mand6  alone  costs  us  more  than  a  million,  —  the 
million  we  brought  from  lUyria.  You  must  tell  me  who 
has  aided  us  since  then,  and  from  whose  hands  we  receive 
the  charity." 

The  old  man's  disturbed  face,  and  the  piteous  trembling 
of  his  thousand  little  wrinkles,  enlightened  Fr^d^rique. 

"  You  ?  is  it  you  ? 

She  would  never  have  thought  it.  And  while  he  was 
excusing  himself,  and  stammering  the  words  "  duty," 
"gratitude,"  and  "restoration,"  she  said  passionately, 
10 


IjO  ICINGS  IN  EXILE. 

"  Duke,  the  king  cannot  take  back  what  he  has  given ; 
and  the  queen  must  not  be  maintained  like  a  dancer." 

Two  tears  —  tears  of  pride,  which  did  not  fall  — 
sparkled  in  his  eyes. 

"  Oh,  pardon  !  pirdon  !  " 

He  was  so  humble,  and  kissed  the  tips  of  her  fingers 
with  such  an  expression  of  sad  regret,  that  she  continued, 
rather  softened,  — 

''  You  must  prepare  a  statement  of  all  you  have  ad- 
vanced, my  dear  Rosen.  A  receipt  will  be  given  you, 
and  the  king  will  discharge  it  as  soon  as  possible.  I  shall 
take  charge  of  future  expenses,  and  shall  take  care  that 
they  do  not  exceed  our  income.  We  shall  sell  our 
horses  and  our  carriages,  and  cut  down  the  number  of 
our  attendants.  Royalty  in  exile  ought  to  be  content 
with  little." 

The  old  duke  started. 

"Undeceive  yourself,  Madame.  It  is  in  exile  above 
all  that  royalty  needs  all  its  prestige.  Ah  !  if  I  had  been 
listened  to,  your  Majesties  would  not  have  come  here,  in 
a  faubourg,  with  an  establishment  which  is  only  suitable 
for  a  stay  in  the  bathing-season.  I  would  have  had  you 
in  a  palace,  in  face  of  worldly  Paris ;  for  I  am  convinced 
that  what  dethroned  kings  have  most  to  fear  is  the  free 
ways  which  bring  them  down  when  they  go  in  the  ranks 
and  among  the  crowd,  coming  into  contact  with  the 
familiarities  and  elbowings  of  the  street.  I  know,  I 
know  !  I  have  often  been  considered  ridiculous  in  my 
respect  for  etiquette,  and  for  my  childish  and  superannu- 
ated strictness.  And  yet  these  forms  are  more  than  ever 
important ;  for  they  aid  in  preserving  the  proud  bearing 
so  easily  lost  in  misfortune,  like  the  inflexible  armor 
which  keeps  the  soldier  on  his  feet  even  when  he  is 
wounded  to  death." 


THE  BOHEMIA    OF  EXILE.  141 

Fr^d^rique  did  not  answer  for  a  moment.  Her  pure 
brow  betokened  that  a  sudden  thought  had  come  to  her. 
Then,  raising  her  head,  she  said,  — 

"  It  is  impossible.  There  is  a  pride  loftier  still  than 
that.  I  intend,  as  I  told  you,  that,  from  this  evening, 
matters  shall  be  changed." 

Then  the  duke  said  more  earnestly,  and  almost  im- 
ploringly, — 

"  But  your  Majesty  cannot  think  of  it.  Sell  your 
horses  and  carriages  ?  A  sort  of  royal  failure  !  What 
a  noise,  what  a  scandal,  it  would  make  !  " 

"What  is  happening  now  is  even  more  scandalous." 

"  Who  knows  about  it  ?  who  even  suspects  it  ?  How 
could  any  one  suppose  that  it  is  the  old  miser  de  Rosen  ? 
You  were  even  uncertain  just  now.  O  Madame,  Ma- 
dame !  accept  what  you  are  pleased  to  call  my  devotion. 
In  the  first  place,  it  would  be  trying  the  impossible.  If 
you  knew  !  Why,  your  yearly  income  would  hardly  suf- 
fice for  the  king's  gambling-purse." 

"  The  king  will  not  play  any  more,  Duke." 

This  was  said  in  such  a  tone,  with  such  an  expression 
in  her  eyes,  that  Rosen  did  not  insist,  but  took  the  liberty 
to  add,  — 

"  I  will  do  what  your  Majesty  desires.  But  I  beg  you 
to  remember  that  all  I  possess  is  yours,  and  that,  in  case 
of  distress,  I  deserve  to  be  applied  to  first." 

He  felt  a  certainty  that  this  would  be  the  case  before 
long. 

On  the  very  next  day  the  proposed  reforms  began. 
One-half  of  the  servants  were  dismissed,  the  useless  car- 
riages sent  to  Tattersall's,  where  they  were  sold  at  pretty 
good  prices,  except  the  state  carriages,  which  were  too 
annoyingly  conspicuous  for  private  individuals.     They  got 


142  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

rid  of  them,  however,  thanks  to  an  American  circus 
which  had  just  been  estabhshed  at  Paris  with  a  large 
amount  of  flaming  advertisements;  and  these  splendid 
coaches,  which  Rosen  had  ordered  that  the  royal  scions 
might  preserve  a  little  of  their  lost  pomp,  and  because 
he  had  a  hope  of  a  future  return  to  Laybach,  served  for 
the  exhibition  of  Chinese  dwarfs  and  learned  monkeys, 
historical  cavalcades,  and  grand  finale  a  la  Franconi. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  performances,  to  the  inspiring 
strains  from  the  band,  these  royal  carriages,  with  their 
escutcheons  but  partly  effaced,  are  seen  driving  on  the 
trodden  gravel  of  the  arena  three  times  around  the  seats, 
while  some  grimacing,  grotesque  face  looks  out  from  the 
open  window,  or  some  famous  female  gymnast,  with  a 
head  that  looks  coarse  in  its  short  hair,  and  a  bust  con- 
fined in  pink-silk  armor,  salutes  the  crowd,  her  forehead 
shining  with  pomade  and  perspiration.  All  these  vene- 
rated properties  fallen  into  a  circus,  and  kept  between 
horses  and  huge  elephants  !  What  a  presage  for  roy- 
alty ! 

Two  placards  on  the  walls  announcing  this  sale  at 
Tattersall's,  and  that  of  the  diamonds  of  the  Queen  of 
Galicia  at  Hotel  Drouot,  made  considerable  talk;  but 
Paris  does  not  pay  attention  to  any  one  thing  long,  for 
its  ideas  follow  the  quickly  changing  sensations  in  the 
newspapers.  People  talked  about  the  two  sales  for 
twenty-four  hours,  and  the  next  day  thought  no  more 
of  them.  Christian  II.,  without  making  any  opposition, 
accepted  the  reforms  the  queen  desired.  Since  his  sad 
escapade,  his  manner  was  almost  confused  when  in  her 
presence  ;  and  he  lowered  himself  still  more  by  the  volun- 
tary childishness  which  he  seemed  to  make  an  excuse 
for  his  behavior. 


THE  BOHEMIA   OF  EXILE.  143 

What  did  he  care  for  the  reform  in  the  house?  His 
life,  which  was  nothing  but  dissipation  and  pleasure,  was 
spent  away  from  home.  It  was  astonishing  that  in  six 
months  he  had  not  once  had  recourse  to  Rosen's 
purse.  That  raised  him  in  the  queen's  eyes  a  httle,  who 
was,  in  addition,  gratified  at  no  longer  having  to  see  the 
Enghshman's  fantastic  cab  standing  in  a  corner  of  the 
court-yard,  and  at  no  longer  meeting  the  obsequious  smile 
of  courtier  creditors  on  the  staircase. 

Yet  the  king  was  spending  a  great  deal,  and  dissipating 
more  than  ever.  Where  did  he  get  the  money  ?  Elys^e 
found  out  in  the  most  singular  way  through  Uncle  Sauva- 
don,  that  worthy  man  to  whom  he  formerly  gave  "  ideas 
about  things,"  the  only  one  of  his  former  acquaintances 
whom  he  had  retained  since  his  entrance  to  the  Rue  Her- 
billon.  Occasionally  he  used  to  go  and  breakfast  with 
him  at  Bercy,  and  bring  him  news  about  Colette,  whom 
he  complained  of  no  longer  seeing,  —  his  adopted  child, 
the  daughter  of  a  poor  brother  whom  he  tenderly  loved 
and  supported  till  his  death.  He  had  always  been 
wrapped  up  in  her,  paid  for  her  nurses  and  baptismal 
cap,  and,  later,  for  her  education  in  the  most  noted  con- 
vent in  Paris.  She  was  his  idol,  his  living  vanity,  the 
pretty  doll  which  he  decked  with  all  the  ambition  that 
stirred  in  his  vulgar,  millionnaire  pan>emi  head ;  and 
when  the  litrie  Sauvadon  whispered  to  her  uncle  in  the 
parlor  of  Sacr6  Coeur,  "  See  that  girl !  her  mother  is  a 
baroness,  or  duchess,  or  marchioness,"  the  millionnaire 
uncle  would  answer,  with  a  shrug  of  his  big  shoulders,  — 

"  We  will  make  you  something  better  than  that." 

He  made  her  a  princess  at  eighteen.  A  nobility  in 
search  of  dowers  is  not  wanting  in  Paris.  The  Levis 
Agency  has  a  whole  assortment  of  titles,  and  one  has 


144  ICINGS  IN  EXILE. 

only  to  give  their  price.  Sauvadon  did  not  think  two 
millions  too  dear  to  enable  him  to  appear  in  a  comer  of  a 
salon  on  the  evenings  when  the  young  Princess  de  Rosen 
received,  and  to  have  the  right  to  sit  in  a  recess  of  a 
window,  and  look  round  with  a  broad,  beaming  smile  on 
the  lips  that  turned  over  like  the  rim  of  a  porringer,  from 
between  short,  bunchy  whiskers  of  a  style  that  had  been 
out  of  date  since  Louis  Philippe's  time.  His  little  gray 
eyes,  —  Colette's  eyes,  —  with  their  lively,  cunning  ex- 
pression, somewhat  softened  the  stuttering,  simple,  incor- 
rect words  that  came  from  his  shapeless,  thick-lipped 
mouth,  which  looked  like  a  horse's  hoof.  The  revela- 
tions of  those  big,  square  hands  reminded  one  that  they 
had  rolled  barrels  on  the  wharf.  When  he  first  appeared 
in  society,  he  mistrusted  himself;  spoke  but  httle,  and 
astonished  and  frightened  people  by  his  speechlessness. 
Bless  me  !  it  was  not  at  the  warehouse  at  Bercy,  or  in 
selling  Southern  wines  diluted  with  logwood,  that  fine 
language  was  to  be  learned.  But,  thanks  to  M^raut !  he 
had  some  ready-made  opinions  and  bold  aphorisms  about 
the  events  of  the  day  and  the  latest  popular  book. 
When  the  uncle  talked,  he  managed  pretty  well,  with  the 
exception  of  bringing  out  his  fs  for  his  s's  at  the  end  of 
words  in  a  manner  startling  enough  to  shatter  the  chan- 
delier, and  alarming  those  around  this  water-bearer  in  a 
white  waistcoat,  who  heard  him  express,  in  a  picturesque 
manner,  certain  theories  a  la  de  Maistre.  But  the  sov- 
ereigns had  taken  the  furnisher  of  his  ideas  away  from 
him,  and  his  means  of  showing  them  off.  Colette,  on 
account  of  her  duties  as  maid  of  honor,  no  longer  left 
Saint  Mand6 ;  and  Sauvadon  knew  the  l^ead  of  the 
domestic  and  military  house  too  well  to  hope  to  be  ad- 
mitted there.     He  had  not  even  spoken  of  it.     Imagine 


THE  BOHEMIA    OF  EXILE.  145 

the  duke  broaching  the  subject  to  the  lofty  Fr^d^rique  ! 
A  wine-merchant  from  Bercy  !  and  not  a  retired  mer- 
chant, but  one,  on  the  contrary,  in  active  business  :  for, 
in  spite  of  his  milHons  and  of  the  supplications  of  his 
niece,  Sauvadon  still  kept  at  work ;  spending  all  his  time 
at  the  warehouse  on  the  wharf,  with  his  pen  over  his 
ear,  and  his  white  forelock  all  in  a  rumple,  surrounded 
by  truckmen  and  sailors  unloading  and  loading  wine- 
casks  ;  or  else  he  was  sure  to  be  under  the  gigantic  trees 
of  the  old  park,  now  mutilated  and  cut  up,  and  where 
his  wealth  was  displayed  in  innumerable  rows  of  casks 
under  the  sheds. 

"  I  should  die  if  I  were  to  give  up  business,"  he  said 
repeatedly.  And  he  verily  lived  on  the  noise  of  rolling 
wine-casks,  and  the  pleasant  odor  of  wine  ascending  from 
the  damp  cellars  of  those  large  warehouses  where  he 
had  made  his  debut  as  a  cooper's  boy  forty-five  years 
before.  It  was  here  that  Elys^e  came  sometimes  to  see 
his  former  pupil,  and  enjoy  one  of  those  breakfasts  that 
can  only  be  prepared  at  Bercy  under  the  trees  in  the 
park,  or  in  the  cellar,  with  wine  drawn  on  the  spot,  and 
sparkling  fish  fresh  from  the  pond,  prepared  as  a  matelote 
as  in  the  remotest  part  of  Lauguedoc  or  the  Vosges.  He 
no  longer  desired  to  have  ideas  about  things,  since  he 
could  not  attend  soirees  at  Colette's  house  :  but  the  good 
man  loved  to  hear  M^raut  talk,  and  to  see  him  eat  and 
drink  freely ;  for  the  wretched  hovel  in  the  Rue  Mon- 
sieur-le-Prince  was  ever  before  his  eyes,  and  he  treated 
Elys^e  like  one  that  had  been  shipwrecked.  It  was  the 
touching  thoughtfulness  of  a  man  who  has  known  hunger 
towards  another  he  knows  to  be  poor.  M^raut  gave  him 
news  of  his  niece  and  her  life  at  Saint  Mande,  and 
brought  him  the  reflections  of  those  splendors  which  cost 


146  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

the  worthy  man  so  dear,  and  which  he  would  never 
witness.  No  doubt  he  was  proud  to  think  of  the  young 
maid  of  honor  dining  with  kings  and  queens,  posturing 
in  a  court  ceremony ;  only  his  sorrow  at  not  seeing  her 
increased  his  ill  humor  and  bitterness  against  the  elder 
Rosen. 

"  What  has  he,  indeed,  to  glory  in  so  very  much?  His 
name  and  title  ?  But  did  I  not  buy  the  same  things  with 
my  money?  His  crosses,  his  ribbons,  and  his  stars? 
Humph  !  I  can  have  them,  too,  whenever  I  wish.  After 
all,  my  dear  M^raut,  you  do  not  know.  Since  I  saw  you 
last,  good  fortune  has  come  to  me." 

"What  is  it.  Uncle?" 

He  called  him  "  uncle  "  through  the  affectionate  fa- 
miliarity peculiar  to  the  South  ;  the  desire  he  felt  to  put 
into  words  the  sympathy  —  not  intellectual  —  that  he  felt 
for  the  great  merchant. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  I  have  the  Lion  of  IllyTia,  —  the 
cross  of  commander.  And  the  duke  feels  so  proud  with 
his  cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  !  On  New  Year's  Day, 
when  I  go  to  make  him  a  visit,  I  shall  put  on  my  decora- 
tions :  that  will  teach  him." 

Elys^e  could  not  believe  it.  The  order  of  the  Lion  — 
one  of  the  most  ancient  and  the  most  sought  after  in 
Europe  —  given  to  Uncle  Savaudon,  —  to  "  uncle  "  !  And 
why  ?     Because  he  sold  diluted  wine  at  Bercy  ? 

"  Oh,  it  is  very  simple  ! "  said  the  other,  blinking  his 
little  gray  eyes  :  "  I  paid  for  the  rank  of  commander  as 
I  did  for  che  title  of  pnnce.  A  lime  more,  and  I  would 
have  had  the  cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor ;  for  it  also 
was  for  sale." 

"  Where  ?  "  asked  Elys^e,  turning  pale. 

"  Why,  at  the  Levis  Agency,  the  Rue  Royale.      One 


THE  BOHEMIA    OF  EXILE.  14? 

can  find  every  thing  at  that  devil  of  an  Enghshman's. 
My  cross  cost  me  ten  thousand  francs.  The  ribbon  was 
worth  fifteen  thousand ;  and  I  knew  some  one  who 
offered  that  for  it.  Guess  who.  Biscarat,  the  great  hair- 
dresser,—  Biscarat  on  the  Boulevard  des  Capucines. 
But,  my  good  fellow,  what  I  am  telling  you  is  known  to 
all  Paris.  Go  to  Biscarat's,  and  you  will  see  at  the  end 
of  the  large  room  where,  surrounded  by  his  thirty  boys, 
he  officiates,  an  immense  photograph,  in  which  he  is  rep- 
resented as  Figaro,  with  a  razor  in  his  hand,  and  the 
ribbon  of  the  order  over  his  shoulder.  The  drawing  is 
reproduced  in  small  size  on  every  bottle  in  the  store.  If 
the  general  were  to  see  that,  how  his  mustache  would 
go  up  to  his  nose  !     You  know  how  he  does  it." 

And  he  tried  to  imitate  the  general's  grimace  ;  but,  as 
he  had  no  mustache,  it  was  not  at  all  the  same  thing. 

"  Have  you  your  brevet.  Uncle  ?  Will  you  show  it  to 
me?" 

Elysee  had  a  hope  that  there  was  some  trickery  of 
writing  about  it,  a  forgery  in  which  the  Levis  Agency 
traded  without  scruple.  But,  no  !  all  seemed  regular, 
labelled  according  to  form,  and  stamped  with  the  arms 
of  Illyria,  bearing  Boscovich's  signature  and  that  of 
King  Christian  II.  Doubt  was  no  longer  possible  :  a 
business  of  selling  crosses  and  ribbons  had  been  estab- 
lished by  permission  of  the  king.  Besides,  to  convince 
himself  still  further,  M^raut  need  only  go  up  to  the 
councillor's  as  soon  as  he  returned  to  Saint  Mand^. 

In  a  corner  of  the  immense  hall,  which  rose  to  the 
roof  of  the  hotel,  and  which  sen-ed  as  a  working-room 
for  Christian,  —  who  never  worked,  —  and  also  as  an 
armory,  gjTnnasium,  and  library,  he  found  Boscovich 
among  the  pigeon-holes  and  big  envelopes  of  wrapping- 


148  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

paper,  and  sheets  of  paper  laid  one  over  the  other,  and 
between  which  the  plants  that  had  been  recently  gath- 
ered were  drying.  Since  his  exile,  the  savant  had  be- 
gun to  make  a  collection  from  the  Paris  woods  of  Vin- 
cennes  and  Boulogne,  where  the  richest  flora  in  France 
are  found.  Besides,  he  had  purchased  the  herbarium  of 
a  famous  naturalist  who  had  just  died ;  and  absorbed  in 
the  examination  of  his  new  riches,  with  his  bloodless 
face,  from  which  one  could  not  judge  his  age,  bowed 
over  a  magnifying-glass,  he  was  raising  with  precaution 
the  heavy  pages,  between  which  were  plants  spread  out 
from  their  corolla  to  the  roots,  and  whose  tints  were  lost 
on  the  edges.  He  uttered  a  cry  of  joy  and  admiration 
when  the  specimen  was  intact  and  well  preserved,  looked 
at  it  a  long  time  with  delight,  reading  its  Latin  name 
aloud,  and  a  description  written  at  the  bottom  in  a  little 
note.  At  other  times  an  exclamation  of  anger  escaped 
him  on  seeing  the  flower  attacked  and  perforated  by  the 
imperceptible  worm,  well  known  to  herbarium-keepers,  — 
an  atom  bom  of  the  dust  of  plants,  on  which  it  also  main- 
tains its  life,  and  which  endangers  and  often  destroys  col- 
lections. The  stem  was  still  sound ;  but,  as  soon  as  the 
page  was  stirred,  every  thing  fell  to  pieces  and  floated 
off,  flowers  and  roots,  in  a  light  cloud. 

"  It  is  a  worm,  a  worm  !  "  said  Boscovich,  with  his 
magnifying-glass  over  his  eye ;  and,  in  a  manner  that 
was  both  grieved  and  proud,  he  pointed  out  a  perfora- 
tion similar  to  that  of  the  borer  in  wood,  and  which  in- 
dicated the  monster's  passage. 

Elys^e  could  not  suspect  him.  This  monomaniac  was 
incapable  of  infamy,  and  also  of  the  least  opposition.  At 
the  first  word  about  decorations,  he  began  to  tremble, 
looking  sideways  from  under  his  glass,  with  timidity  and 


THE  BOHEMIA    OF  EXILE.  149 

mistrust.  What  was  this  that  he  had  just  said  to  him? 
No  doubt  the  king  lately  had  made  him  prepare  a  quan- 
tity of  brevets  of  every  grade,  with  a  blank  for  the  name ; 
but  he  knew  nothing  more  about  them,  and  never  would 
have  asked. 

"  Well,  Councillor,"  said  Elys^e  gravely,  "  I  warn  you 
that  his  Majesty  is  trading  his  crosses  with  the  Levis 
Agency." 

Thereupon  he  told  the  story  about  the  Gascon  barber 
which  so  amused  all  Paris.  Boscovich  gave  one  of  his 
little  womanish  screams ;  but  at  heart  he  was  only  very 
slightly  shocked,  for  he  felt  very  little  interest  in  any 
thing  which  did  not  concern  his  mania.  His  herbarium 
which  he  left  at  Laybach  represented  his  country  to  him ; 
and  that  which  he  was  preparing,  his  exile  in  France. 

"  But  don't  you  see  it  is  unworthy  a  man  like  you  to 
lend  a  hand  to  such  shameful  intrigues?  " 

Boscovich,  who  was  in  despair  because  his  eyes  had 
been  forced  open  to  what  he  did  not  wish  to  see,  stam- 
mered, — 

"But  —  but  what  can  I  do,  my  good  Monsieur  M^- 
raut  ?  The  king  is  the  king.  When  he  says,  '  Bosco- 
vich, write  that,'  my  hand  obeys  without  my  thought, 
particularly  when  his  Majesty  is  so  kind  and  so  generous 
to  me.  It  was  he  who,  seeing  my  despair  at  the  loss  of 
my  herbarium,  made  me  a  present  of  this  one.  Fifteen 
hundred  francs,  —  a  magnificent  opportunity  ;  and  I  have 
had  the  '  Hortus  Cliffortianus '  of  Linnaeus  into  the  bar- 
gain, and  the  earliest  edition." 

Thus  naively  and  cynically  the  poor  man  bared  his 
conscience.  All  within  him  was  dry  and  dead,  and  of  the 
color  of  the  treasures  in  his  herbarium.  His  mania, 
which  was  as  cruel  as  the  invisible  worm  of  naturalists, 


ISO  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

had  perforated  and  consumed  every  thing.  He  felt  no 
emotion,  except  when  Elys^e  threatened  to  notify  the 
queen.  Then  only  the  monomaniac  dropped  his  glass,  and 
made  his  avowals  in  a  low  voice,  and  with  deep  sighs  like 
a  penitent  at  the  confessional.  Many  things  took  place 
before  his  eyes  which  he  could  not  help,  and  which 
troubled  him.  The  king  had  bad  company  about  him. 
And  then  what  can  you  expect?  He  had  no  desire  to 
reign,  —  no  taste  for  the  throne  ;  nor  had  he  ever. 

"  But  tarry  a  moment !  I  remember  :  it  was  a  long  time 
ago,  in  the  lifetime  of  the  late  Leopold,  when  the  king 
had  his  first  attack  as  he  left  the  table ;  and,  when  they 
told  Christian  that  he  would  no  doubt  succeed  his  uncle, 
the  child  —  he  was  hardly  twelve,  and  played  croquet  in 
the  court-yard  of  the  residence  —  began  to  weep,  and 
wept  immoderately,  having  an  hysterical  attack.  '  I  will 
not  be  a  king !  I  will  not  be  a  king ! '  he  said.  '  Let 
them  place  my  cousin  Stanislas  in  my  place.'  The  look 
that  I  have  often  seen  since  then  in  Christian's  eyes  has 
reminded  me  of  the  startled  and  frightened  expression 
in  them  that  morning,  as  he  clung  with  all  his  might  to 
his  mallet,  as  if  he  were  afraid  they  would  carry  him 
into  the  throne-hall ;  and  he  kept  crying,  '  I  will  not  be 
a  king  ! '  " 

Christian's  whole  character  was  shown  in  this  anec- 
dote. Oh,  no  !  without  doubt,  he  was  not  a  wicked 
man,  but  childish,  married  too  young,  with  uncontrollable 
passions  and  hereditary  vices.  The  Hfe  that  he  led  — 
nights  at  the  club,  with  women,  and  suppers  —  is  the  nor- 
mal existence  of  husbands  in  a  certain  class  of  society. 
All  was  aggravated  by  his  having  to  fill  the  role  of  king 
when  he  did  not  know  how,  and  to  assume  responsibih- 
ties  above  his  capacity  and  strength,  and,  above  all,  by 


THE  BOHEMIA    OF  EXILE.  151 

this  protracted  exile,  which  was  slowly  demoralizing  him. 
Firmer  natures  than  his  could  not  withstand  this  breaking- 
up  of  fixed  habits,  this  doubt  of  the  future,  this  hope, 
anguish,  and  expectancy,  which  enervated  him. 

Exile,  like  the  sea,  has  its  torpor :  it  beats  down  and 
swallows  up ;  it  is  a  phase  of  transition.  One  cannot 
escape  the  ennui  of  long  passages,  except  by  fixed  occu- 
pations and  hours  of  regular  study. 

But  how  can  a  king  occupy  his  time  when  he  no  lon- 
ger has  a  people  or  ministers  or  council,  nothing  to  de- 
cide or  sign,  and  far  too  much  mind  or  scepticism  to 
amuse  himself  by  pretending  all  these  things,  and  far  too 
much  ignorance  to  attempt  a  diversion  in  any  other  assid- 
uous work? 

Then  exile  is  the  sea;  but  it  means  also  shipwreck, 
throwing  the  first-class  passengers  pell-mell  among  those 
of  the  deck,  and  in  the  open  air.  It  needs  a  proud  bear- 
ing, a  truly  royal  temperament,  not  to  be  affected  by  famil- 
iarity, and  the  degrading  promiscuous  society  for  which 
one  will  later  blush  and  suffer,  —  to  be  a  king  in  the  midst 
of  privations,  distress  and  disgrace,  which  bring  classes 
together,  and  confuse  them  in  one  wretched  humanity. 

Alas  !  this  Bohemia  of  exile,  from  which  the  Duke  of 
Rosen  had  so  long  preserved  it  at  great  sacrifice,  began 
at  last  to  affect  the  house  of  Illyria.  The  king  was  at  his 
wits'  end  to  pay  the  expenses  of  his  "  enjoying  himself." 
He  began  to  give  notes  like  a  son  who  has  not  come  into 
his  property,  finding  this  very  simple,  and  even  more  con- 
venient, with  Tom  Levis's  help,  than  the  "  good  on  our 
bank,"  which  he  formerly  addressed  to  the  head  of  the 
domestic  and  military  service.  The  notes  came  due,  and 
were  increased  by  many  renewals,  till  the  day  when  Tom 
Levis,  finding  himself  hard  up,  invented  this  pretty  trade 


152  KINGS   fN  EXILE. 

in  brevets  ;  a  king  without  a  people,  or  civil  list,  having 
no  other  resource.  Tlic  poor  Lion  of  Illyria,  cut  up  like 
an  old  ox,  was  divided  into  quarters  and  slices,  sold  at 
auction  and  at  the  butcher's  shop  for  so  much  the  mane, 
the  pope's  eye,  the  side-pieces,  and  the  claws. 

And  this  was  only  the  beginning.  In  Tom  Levis's  cab 
the  king  would  not  st6p  on  a  road  made  so  smooth  for 
him.  This  is  what  M^raut  said  to  himself  as  he  went 
down  from  Boscovich.  He  saw  plainly  that  the  coun- 
cillor could  not  be  depended  upon,  being  as  easy  to  be 
deceived  as  are  all  those  who  have  a  mania.  He  him- 
self was  too  new,  too  much  a  stranger  in  the  house,  to 
have  any  authority  over  Christian's  mind.  What  if  he 
should  apply  to  the  elder  Rosen  ?  At  the  first  words  of 
the  preceptor,  the  duke  cast  upon  him  the  terrible  look  of 
one  whose  religion  had  been  attacked.  The  king,  how- 
ever low  he  had  fallen,  was  still  the  king  to  him  ;  and 
there  was  no  help  to  expect  from  the  monk,  whose  ta%vny 
face  only  appeared  at  long  intervals  between  two  journeys, 
when  it  looked  thinner  and  more  sunburnt. 

And  the  queen?  But  he  had  seen  her  looking  sad 
and  restless  for  some  months,  her  beautiful,  pure  forehead 
being  always  shadowed  with  care  ;  and,  when  she  came 
to  the  lessons,  she  only  listened  absent-mindedly,  her 
work  lying  idly  in  her  hands.  Grave  thoughts  disturbed 
her ;  and  they  were  strange  ones  to  her,  as  they  rose  from 
common  things,  anxiety  about  money,  and  the  humiliat- 
ing thought  of  all  those  hands  held  out  which  she  could 
no  longer  fill,  —  tradespeople,  the  needy  companions  of 
exile  and  misfortune  ;  for  this  sad  calling  of  sovereign  has 
cares,  even  when  it  no  longer  has  rights.  All  those  who 
learned  the  way  to  the  prosperous  house  now  waited 
hours  in  the  anteroom,  and,  weary  of  waiting,  often  went 


THE  BOHEMIA   OF  EXILE.  1 53 

away  uttering  words  that  tlie  queen  divined,  rather  than 
heard,  by  their  discontented  step,  and  their  weariness  of 
having  been  sent  away  three  times. 

She  really  tried  to  bring  order  into  their  new  mode  of 
life ;  but  misfortune,  bad  investments,  and  paralyzed  val- 
ues threatened  it.  They  must  wait,  or  lose  every  thing. 
Poor  Queen  Frdd^rique,  who  thought  she  knew  every 
thing  relating  to  suffering,  had  yet  no  experience  in  those 
trials  which  wear  one  out,  —  the  hard  and  wounding  con- 
tact with  commonplace,  every-day  life.  As  the  end  of 
the  months  drew  near,  she  would  think  of  them  at  night, 
and  shudder,  like  the  head  of  a  business-house.  Some- 
times a  servant's  wages  were  overdue  ;  and  she  feared  to 
believe  that  delay  of  an  order,  or  a  more  determined 
look,  meant  his  discontent.  Finally  she  became  ac- 
quainted with  debt,  —  the  debt  which  is  gradually  harass- 
ing, and  in  the  insolence  of  its  demands  forces  open  the 
loftiest  and  most  beautifully  gilded  doors.  The  old  duke 
gravely  and  silently  watched  the  queen's  anguish  of 
mind,  and  constantly  made  excuse  to  be  near  her,  as  if 
to  say,  "  I  am  here."  But  she  determined  to  exhaust 
every  thing  before  breaking  her  word,  and  applying  to 
the  one  she  crushed  with  so  haughty  a  lesson. 

They  were  passing  one  evening  in  the  large  saloji  as 
drearily  as  usual,  the  king,  as  always,  being  absent,  and  in 
the  light  of  silver  candlesticks  were  preparing  a  whist- 
table  for  what  was  called  the  queen's  game ;  the  duke 
sitting  opposite  her  Majesty,  with  Madame  Eleonora  and 
Boscovich  for  opponents. 

The  princess  was  playing  in  an  undertone  a  few  of 
those  "  Echoes  of  Illyria  "  which  Fr^d^rique  was  never 
weary  of  hearing,  and  which  at  the  least  sign  of  satisfac- 
tion the  musician  changed  into  a  war-chant  or  bravura. 


T54  A'INGS  IN  EXILE. 

These  reminders  of  their  country,  which  brought  a  beau- 
tiful smile  and  heroic  expression,  brightened  the  atmos- 
phere around  these  resigned  exiles,  and  varied  the  ways 
of  life  acquired  in  this  elegant  salon  which  sheltered 
royalty.  Ten  o'clock  struck.  The  queen,  instead  of  as- 
cending to  her  apartments,  as  was  her  custom  every 
evening,  and  giving  a  signal  to  retire  by  her  departure, 
cast  an  anxious  look  around  her,  and  said,  — 

"You  can  withdraw.  I  have  work  to  attend  to  with 
Monsieur  M^raut." 

Elys^e,  who  was  busy  reading  near  the  fireplace,  bowed 
as  he  closed  the  pamphlet  whose  leaves  he  was  turning, 
and  passed  into  the  study  for  pens,  ink,  and  other  writing 
materials. 

When  he  returned,  the  queen  was  alone,  listening  to 
the  carriages  rolling  into  the  court-yard,  while  the  great 
gateway  closed  behind  them ;  and  in  the  passages  and  on 
the  stairway  of  the  hotel  were  heard  the  going  and  coming 
which  in  a  large  household  precede  the  hour  for  retiring. 
All  was  silent  at  last ;  the  silence  being  intensified  by 
two  leagues  of  woodland,  where  the  rustling  of  the  wind 
through  the  leaves  deadened  the  distant  rumbling  of 
Paris.  The  deserted  salon,  which  was  still  lighted, 
seemed  in  its  calm  solitude  as  if  ready  for  some  tragic 
scene.  Fr^d^rique,  leaning  her  elbow  on  the  table, 
pushed  away  the  blotting-paper  prepared  by  M^raut. 

"  No,  no  !  We  are  not  to  work  this  evening,"  she 
said.     "  It  was  an  excuse.     Sit  down,  and  let  us  talk." 

Then  she  added  in  a  lower  voice,  — 

"  I  have  something  to  ask  you." 

But  what  she  had  to  tell  him  probably  cost  her  a  great 
effort ;  for  she  reflected  a  moment,  with  her  mouth  and 
eyes   partly   closed,  and  with   that  worn,  extremely  old 


THE  BOHEMIA    OF  EXILE.  155 

expression  which  Elys^e  had  seen  in  them  sometimes, 
and  which  made  the  beautiful  face  still  more  beautiful, 
marked  as  it  was  by  all  her  devotion  and  sacrifices,  and 
its  pure  lines  deepened  through  her  loftiest  sentiments  as 
a  queen  and  woman.  She  also  inspired  him  with  a  re- 
ligious respect.  Finally,  summoning  all  her  courage, 
Frdddrique  asked  in  a  very  low  voice  and  timid  manner, 
bringing  out  one  word  after  the  other,  as  if  they  were 
groping  steps  taken  in  dread,  if  he  did  not  know  "  one 
of  those  —  one  of  those  places  in  Paris  where  they  —  lent 
money  on  security." 

To  ask  that  of  Elys^e,  of  this  great  Bohemian,  who 
knew  all  the  Parisian  pawn-shops,  and  had  used  them 
for  twenty  years  as  a  place  to  fall  back  upon,  —  where  he 
put  his  summer  clothing  in  winter,  and  his  winter  gar- 
ments in  summer  !  Did  he  know  the  "  clou  "  ?  did  he 
know  "  ma  tante  "  ?  This  slang  of  the  poor,  returning 
with  the  memory  of  his  youth,  brought  a  momentary 
smile  to  his  lips.  But  the  queen  continued,  while  trying 
to  make  her  voice  firm  ;  — 

"  I  would  like  to  intrust  something  to  you  to  take 
there,  —  some  jewels.  One  has  moments  of  embarrass- 
ment sometimes." 

Her  beautiful  eyes  were  now  raised,  and  revealed  a 
deep  abyss  of  calm  and  superhuman  grief. 

Want  among  kings  !  so  much  grandeur  humiliated  ! 
Was  it  possible? 

M^raut  made  a  sign  with  his  head  that  he  was  ready 
to  take  charge  of  whatever  was  desired. 

If  he  had  uttered  a  word,  he  would  have  sobbed.     If 

he  had  made  a  movement,  he  would  have  fallen  at  the 

feet  of  this  great  distress.     And  yet  his  admiration  began 

to   change  to  pity.     The   queen  now  seemed  to  him  a 

11 


156  A'/A'CS  IN  EXILE. 

little  lower,  a  little  less  above  the  vulgarities  of  life,  as  if, 
in  the  sad  avowal  she  had  made,  he  caught  a  Bohemian 
accent,  something  like  the  beginning  of  a  downfall, 
which  brought  her  nearer  to  him. 

She  rose  suddenly,  went  to  the  crystal  box,  and  took 
out  the  forgotten  antique  relic,  which  she  placed  on  the 
table-cloth.  It  was  a  handful  of  jewels  of  every  ray  of 
color. 

Elys^e  trembled.     The  crown  ! 

"  Yes,  the  crown  !  It  has  been  in  the  house  of  Illyria 
six  hundred  years.  Kings  have  died,  and  streams  of 
noble  blood  have  been  shed,  to  defend  it.  At  present  it 
must  help  us  to  live.     We  have  nothing  left  but  this." 

It  was  of  fine  old  gold, —  a  magnificent  closed  diadem, 
whose  circles,  relieved  by  ornaments,  joined  above  the 
cap  of  ruby  velvet.  Over  the  circles,  above  the  bandeau 
of  twisted  filagree,  in  the  heart  of  each  gem  which  rep- 
resented the  veining  of  the  clover-leaf,  the  point  of  the 
scalloped  open-work  arches  supporting  them,  contained 
every  known  variety  of  stones,  —  the  transparent  blue  sap- 
phire, the  velvety-blue  turquoise,  the  topaz  of  the  pale 
hues  of  dawn,  the  flame-colored  Oriental  ruby,  and  emer- 
alds that  were  like  drops  of  water  on  leaves,  the  cabalistic 
opal,  and  the  pearls  of  the  milky  iris ;  but,  overpowering 
them  all,  the  diamonds,  scattered  everywhere,  radiated 
from  their  facets  a  thousand  varied  fires,  like  luminous 
dust  or  a  cloud  full  of  sunlight,  and  blended  and  soft- 
ened the  brilliancy  of  the  diadem,  causing  it  to  gleam 
with  the  subdued  vermilion  light  of  a  lamp  as  seen  at  the 
end  of  a  sanctuary. 

The  queen  placed  her  trembling  finger  in  this  place 
and  that  place,  remarking,  — 

"  Some  of  the  stones  must  be  taken  out,  —  the  largest." 


THE  BOHEMIA    OF  EXILE.  157 

"With  what?" 

They  spoke  in  a  low  voice,  like  two  criminals ;  but, 
seeing  nothing  in  the  salon  which  could  answer,  Fr6- 
d^rique  said,  — 

"Hold  the  light  for  me." 

They  passed  into  the  glass  veranda,  where  the  tall  lamp 
they  carried  made  fantastic  shadows,  and  cast  a  long 
stream  of  light,  which  vanished  on  the  lawns  in  the  dark- 
ness of  the  garden. 

"  No,  no  !  not  the  scissors,"  she  murmured,  seeing  him 
move  towards  her  work-basket.  "  They  are  not  strong 
enough.     I  have  tried." 

Finally  they  discovered  a  pair  of  gardener's  shears  on 
the  tub  of  a  pomegranate-tree  whose  delicate  branches 
sought  the  moonlight  against  the  glass.  Both  having 
returned  to  the  salon,  Elys^e  tried  to  raise  with  the  point 
of  the  instrument  an  enormous  oval  sapphire,  which  the 
queen  pointed  out  to  him  ;  but  the  polished  stone,  being 
firmly  set,  resisted,  slipped  from  under  the  iron,  immovable 
in  its  clutch.  Besides,  the  hand  of  the  operator —  fearing 
to  injure  the  stone  or  to  break  the  setting,  which  bore, 
in  marks  on  its  gold,  traces  of  previous  attempts  —  was 
neither  strong  nor  sure.  The  royalist  suffered,  and  was 
indignant  at  the  outrage  that  they  made  him  do  the 
crown,  the  symbol  of  all  the  sovereignties.  And  it 
seemed  really  alive.  He  could  feel  it  shudder,  resist,  and 
struggle. 

"  I  cannot !  I  cannot ! "  he  said,  wiping  the  perspira- 
tion from  his  forehead. 

The  queen  replied,  — 

"You  must." 

"  But  it  will  show." 

Fr^d^rique  gave  a  proud,  ironical  smile. 


158  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

"  Will  show  !  Is  there  any  one  who  even  looks  at  it  ? 
And  who  thinks  of  it,  who  takes  care  of  it  here,  except 
myself  ?  " 

While  Elys^e  resumed  his  task  with  bowed  head  and 
pale  face,  with  his  long  hair  tumbling  in  his  eyes,  and 
with  the  royal  diadem  between  his  knees,  which  the 
shears  were  clipping  and  cutting,  Fr(jddrique,  holding  the 
lamp  high  above  her,  was  watching  the  attempt  as  cold 
as  the  stones  which  were  shining  among  pieces  of  gold 
on  the  table-cloth,  intact  and  splendid  in  spite  of  having 
been  torn  out. 

The  next  day,  Elys(^e  who  had  been  out  all  the  morn- 
ing, returned  soon  after  the  first  breakfast-bell,  and  seated 
himself  at  table  moved  and  disturbed,  and  hardly  join- 
ing in  the  conversation  of  which  he  was  usually  the  light 
and  spirit.  This  agitation  affected  the  queen  without  in 
the  least  checking  her  smile,  or  changing  the  serene 
tones  of  her  contralto  voice ;  and,  when  the  repast  was 
over,  it  was  long  before  they  could  come  together,  and 
be  able  to  talk  freely,  being  watched  through  the  etiquette 
and  rules  which  had  been  established  in  the  house,  which 
necessitated  the  service  of  a  lady  of  honor,  and  the  jeal- 
ous surveillance  of  Madame  de  Silvis.  Finally,  it  was  the 
lesson-hour.  While  the  little  prince  was  settling  himself 
to  work,  and  preparing  his  books,  the  queen  said  to 
Elys^e,  — 

"What  is  the  matter?  What  has  happened  to  me 
now?  " 

"  Ah,  Madame  !  all  the  stones  are  false." 

"False?" 

"  And  very  carefully  imitated  in  paste." 

"  How  was  it  done  ?  By  whom  ?  There  is  a  traitor  in 
the  house,  then?  " 


THE    BOHEMIA    OF  EX  FEE.  1 59 

She  grew  fearfully  pale  at  the  word  "  traitor ;  "  and  sud- 
denly clinching  her  teeth,  with  a  look  of  despair  and 
anger  in  her  eyes,  she  answered,  — 

"  It  is  true.  There  is  a  traitor  here,  and  you  and  I 
know  him  well." 

Then  with  a  nervous  gesture,  taking  Elys^e's  hand  pas- 
sionately, as  if  in  a  compact  known  to  themselves  alone, 
she  added, — 

"  But  we  will  never  denounce  him,  will  we  ?  " 

"  Never  !  "  he  answered,  turning  away  his  eyes ;  for,  in 
a  word,  they  understood  each  other. 


l6o  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

JOYS   OF  THE   PEOPLE. 

It  was  the  afternoon  of  the  first  Sunday  in  May,  —  a 
splendid,  bright  day,  a  month  ahead  of  the  season,  and  so 
warm  that  they  had  taken  off  the  top  of  the  landau  in 
which  Queen  Fr^d^rique,  the  little  prince,  and  his  gov- 
ernor were  riding  in  the  Bois  de  Saint  Mand^.  This  first 
caress  of  spring,  which  came  through  the  young  new 
branches,  warmed  the  queen's  heart,  and  brightened  the 
face  under  the  blue  silk  umbrella.  She  felt  happy  with- 
out reason ;  and  for  some  hours,  forgetting  her  hardships 
amid  the  universal  loveliness,  she  leaned  back  in  a  cor- 
ner of  the  heavy  vehicle,  with  her  child  pressed  against 
her,  and  abandoned  herself  to  the  intimacy  and  the 
security  of  a  familiar  talk  with  Elys^e  M^raut,  who  sat 
opposite  them. 

"  It  is  singular,"  she  said  to  him,  "  but  it  seems  to  me 
we  must  have  met  before  we  became  acquainted.  Your 
voice  and  face  at  once  awoke  a  memory  within  me. 
^Vhere  can  we  have  met  the  first  time?  " 

Little  Zara  remembered  that  first  time  very  well.  It 
was  in  the  convent  in  the  church  under  the  ground, 
where  Monsieur  Elys^e  frightened  him  so.  And  in  the 
gentle,  timid  eyes  which  the  child  turned  towards  his 
teacher,  one  could  still  see  a  little  of  that  superstitious 
fear.  But,  no  :  even  before  this  Christmas  evening,  the 
queen  was  convinced  that  she  had  met  him. 


JOYS  OF   THE  PEOPLE.  l6l 

"Unless  it  was  in  another  life,"  she  added,  almost 
seriously. 

Elys^e  laughed. 

"  Indeed,  your  Majesty  is  not  mistaken.  You  saw  me 
not  in  another  life,  but  in  Paris,  on  the  very  day  of 
your  arrival.  I  was  opposite  the  Hotel  des  Pyramides, 
mounted  on  the  lower  part  of  the  fence  of  the  Tuileries." 

"  And  you  shouted,  '  Long  live  the  king  ! '  Now  I 
remember.  Then  it  was  you.  Oh,  how  glad  I  am  !  It 
was  you  who  first  gave  us  a  welcome.  If  you  knew  how 
much  good  your  words  did  me." 

"And  myself  also,"  continued  M^raut.  "It  was  so 
long  since  I  had  an  opportunity  to  utter  that  triumphant 
cry  of  '  Long  live  the  king  ! '  —  so  long,  that  it  sang  on 
my  lips.  They  were  the  household  words  in  my  family, 
and  associated  with  all  the  joys  of  my  childhood  and 
youth  ;  and  by  them,  in  our  own  home,  we  expressed  our 
emotions  and  beliefs.  That  cry,  when  I  hear  it,  recalls 
my  father's  Southern  accent,  voice,  and  gesture  ;  it  brings 
the  same  tears  to  my  eyes  that  I  saw  in  his  so  many 
times.  Poor  man  !  it  was  instinctive  with  him,  —  a  pro- 
fession of  faith  in  one  word.  One  day,  while  passing 
through  Paris  on  his  return  from  a  journey  to  Frohs- 
dorff,  my  father  went  through  the  Place  du  Carrousel  as 
Louis  Philippe  was  coming  out  from  there.  The  people 
belonging  to  the  class  that  were  seen  at  the  close  of  the 
Empire  were  waiting  and  hanging  to  the  fence,  and  were 
indifferent  and  even  hostile.  My  father,  on  learning  that 
the  king  was  to  pass,  pushed  the  crowd  aside,  and 
elbowed  his  way  through  to  the  first  row  to  see  him  near 
to,  and  crush  with  scornful  looks  this  brigand  and  rascal 
of  a  Louis  Philippe,  who  had  stolen  the  place  of  the  le- 
gitimate king.    Suddenly  the  king  appeared,  and  crossed 


1 62  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

the  deserted  court,  amid  an  oppressive,  deathlike  silence, 
that  weighed  on  all  tlie  palace,  and  in  which  it  seemed 
as  if  they  could  distinctly  hear  the  firing  of  the  guns  of 
the  mob  cracking  the  planks  of  the  throne.  Louis  Phi- 
lippe, who  was  ab-eady  old  and  very  much  of  a  bourgeois, 
approached  the  fence  with  little,  mincing  steps,  with  his 
umbrella  in  his  hand.  There  was  nothing  of  the  sover- 
eign, nothing  of  the  master,  about  him.  But  this  my 
father  did  not  see ;  and  as  he  thought  that  in  the  great 
palace  of  the  kings  of  France,  which  was  paved  with 
glorious  memories,  the  representative  of  the  monarchy 
was  coming  out  through  the  frightful  solitude  which  is 
made  around  royalty  by  the  hatred  of  the  people,  some- 
thing stirred  within  him,  and  rebelled.  He  forgot  all  his 
bitterness,  took  off  his  hat  suddenly,  and  instinctively 
cried,  or  sobbed  rather,  '  Long  live  the  king  ! '  in  such 
ringing,  earnest  tones,  that  the  old  man  started,  and 
thanked  him  \vith  a  look  full  of  emotion." 

"  I  should  have  thanked  you  thus,"  said  Fr^d^rique ; 
and  her  eyes  rested  on  M^raut  with  such  tender  grati- 
tude, that  the  poor  fellow  felt  himself  grow  pale.  She 
resumed  almost  immediately,  full  of  the  recital  she  had 
just  heard  :  — 

"  But  your  father  was  not  of  the  nobility?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  Madame  !  a  very  low-bom,  humble  man,  a 
working-man,  a  weaver." 

"  It  is  singular,"  said  Fr^d^rique  dreamily. 

Mdraut  answered  her,  and  an  endless  discussion  began. 
The  queen  did  not  love,  and  did  not  understand,  the 
people,  and  had  a  kind  of  physical  horror  of  them.  She 
thought  them  rude  and  alarming  in  their  joys  as  in  their 
revenge.  Even  in  the  holy  festivals,  during  the  honey- 
moon of  her  reign,  she  was  afraid  of  them,  —  of  their 


yOVS  OF   7 HE  PEOPLE.  163 

thousand  hands  held  out  to  applaud,  and  which  she  felt 
made  her  a  prisoner.  They  had  never  been  able  to 
agree.  Pardons,  favors,  and  alms  had  fallen  from  her 
hands  to  theirs,  like  those  unblessed  harvests  which  can- 
not germinate,  though  there  be  no  reason  to  positively 
blame  the  sterility  of  the  soil  or  the  barrenness  of  the 
seeds.  Among  the  fairy-tales  with  which  Madame  de 
Silvis  created  a  kind  of  mist  in  the  mind  of  the  little 
prince,  there  was  a  story  about  a  young  lady  of  Syria 
married  to  a  lion,  who  was  horribly  frightened  by  the  roar- 
ing of  her  tawny-colored  husband,  and  his  violent  way 
of  shaking  his  mane.  This  poor  lion,  however,  was  full 
of  attention  and  loving  delicacy  :  he  brought  home  rare 
game  and  honeycomb  to  his  child-wife,  and  watched 
over  her  while  she  slept,  and  imposed  silence  on  the  sea, 
forests,  and  animals.  But,  for  all  this,  she  felt  the  same 
repulsion  and  fear,  which  wounded  him  so  greatly  that 
he  got  angry  one  day,  and,  opening  his  mouth  and  flash- 
ing his  mane,  roared  a  terrible  "  Begone  !  "  as  if  he  had 
as  great  a  desire  to  devour  her  as  to  give  her  her  lib- 
erty. This  story  would  describe  Fre'd^rique's  attitude 
towards  her  people ;  and,  since  Elys^e  had  lived  under 
her  roof,  he  tried  in  vain  to  make  her  admit  the  con- 
cealed goodness,  chivalric  devotion,  and  shy  suscepti- 
bility of  this  great  lion  who  roared  so  many  times  in 
joke  before  getting  into  a  rage.  Ah  !  if  the  kings  had 
so  willed,  —  if  they  had  shown  themselves  less  defiant  ! 
And,  as  Fr^derique  waved  her  sunshade  doubtfully,  he 
continued,  — 

"  Yes  :  I  know  very  well.  The  people  frighten  you  ;  but 
you  do  not  love  them,  or  rather  you  do  not  know  them. 
Look  around  you,  your  Majesty,  in  these  paths  and  under 
these  trees.     The  people  who  are  walking  and  amusing 


r64  KTNGS  /N   EXILE. 

themselves  here  are  from  the  most  terrible  faubourg  in 
Paris,  through  whose  unpaved  streets  flows  the  tide  of 
revolutions.  They  all  look  so  simple,  good,  natural,  and 
innocent ;  and  how  they  enjoy  the  delights  of  a  day  of 
rest  in  a  bright  season  !  " 

From  the  broad  mall  through  whicli  the  landau  was 
slowly  passing,  one  saw,  indeed,  among  the  shrubbery, 
which  was  still  bare  of  leaves,  though  the  ground  was  blue 
with  early  wild  hyacinths,  breakfasts  spread  out  on  the 
grass  dotted  with  white  plates ;  baskets  with  gaping 
covers ;  stout  bottles  from  the  wine-merchants'  shops,  like 
so  many  great  bullfinches  hiding  in  the  young  vegeta- 
tion ;  shawls  and  blouses  hung  on  the  branches,  the  women 
in  waists  and  the  men  in  shirt-sleeves, — some  reading, 
some  taking  naps,  others  making  elaborate  carving  on  the 
trunks  of  trees ;  bright  glades,  where  one  saw  bits  of 
some  cheap  stuff  tossed  about  in  a  game  of  shuttlecock, 
and  blind-man's-buff,  or  some  quadrille  improvised  to  the 
music  of  an  invisible  band  borne  on  the  wind  at  intervals. 
There  were  children  without  number,  making  a  link  be- 
t\veen  the  company  at  table  and  the  players,  running  from 
one  family  to  another,  leaping  and  shouting,  filling  the 
whole  wood  with  a  warbling  like  that  of  swallows ;  and 
their  endless  flitting  to  and  fro  had  also  the  same  swift, 
capricious,  shadowy  fluttering  in  the  sunlit  branches.  As 
a  contrast  to  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  swept,  raked,  pro- 
tected by  its  little  rustic  bars,  this  wood  of  Vincennes, 
with  every  avenue  free,  seemed  well  suited  for  the  holiday 
sports  of  a  people,  with  its  green  grass  trodden  down,  its 
sturdy  trees  bent  low,  as  if  nature  here  were  more  gener- 
ous and  more  lively. 

All  at  once,  at  the  turn  of  the  path,  the  sudden  flood 
of  air  and  light  from  the  lake,  breaking  tlirough  the  foliage 


yOYS  OF   THE  PEOPLE.  1 65 

of  the  wood  around  its  turf-covered  banks,  drew  from  the 
loyal  child  a  cr}'  oi  enthusiasm.  It  was  superb,  like  the 
sea  suddenly  disclosed  to  view  after  the  labyrinth  of  bare 
rocks  of  a  village  in  Brittany,  the  tide  flowing  to  the  foot 
of  the  nearest  lane.  Sailing-barks,  filled  with  boatmen  in 
bright  colors  of  blue  and  red,  were  literally  ploughing  the 
lake  ;  while  the  silvery  strokes  of  oars  mingled  their  foamy 
plashing  with  the  sparkling  play  of  little  waves. 

Ducks  in  line  were  swimming  along,  uttering  their 
sharp  cries ;  and  swans,  with  their  more  sweeping,  grace- 
ful motion,  were  following  the  long  curve  along  the  bor- 
ders, their  light  wings  ruffled  by  the  breeze  ;  while  far  in 
the  background,  screened  by  the  green  curtain  of  an 
island,  the  band  sent  joyous  strains  through  the  wood,  to 
which  the  surface  of  the  lake  served  as  a  sounding-board. 
In  addition  to  all  this,  there  was  a  lively  commotion,  — 
the  stir  of  wind  and  wave,  the  flapping  of  streamers,  the 
calls  of  boatmen,  and  the  picture  formed  by  people  seated 
on  the  slopes,  of  children  playing,  and  of  two  noisy  little 
cafes  built  close  to  the  water,  with  a  plank  of  resonant 
wood  for  a  bridge.  In  the  open  space  beneath  the  cafes 
were  bathing  and  sailing  boats.  There  were  but  few 
carriages  on  the  borders  of  the  lake  ;  but  from  time  to 
time  they  saw  a  depot-cab  carrying  home  a  couple  the 
day  after  their  wedding  in  the  suburbs,  and  who  were  to 
be  recognized  by  the  new  overcoats  and  the  gayly  figured 
shawls ;  and  business  jaunting-cars  with  their  signs  in 
gold  letters,  and  laden  with  stout  ladies  with  flower- 
bedecked  hats,  who  looked  with  pity  on  the  pedestrians 
crowding  the  paths.  But  most  worthy  of  observation 
were  the  little  baby-carriages,  the  first  domestic  luxury 
of  a  workman,  those  moving  cradles,  in  which  little 
lieads  framed  in  ruched  caps  nod  happily  and  fall  asleep 


1 66  KINGS  TN-  EX  TLB. 

while  watching  the  interlacing  of  the  branches  against  the 
blue  sky. 

During  this  promenade  of  little  people,  the  carriage 
with  lUyrian  arms,  harness,  and  livery,  excited  considerable 
astonishment  wherever  it  passed,  Fr(^d(^rique  having  never 
come  there  excepliiig  on  week-days.  The  people  were 
elbowing  each  other  about ;  and  the  bands  of  workmen 
with  their  families,  who  were  silent  and  felt  stiff  and 
restrained  in  their  best  clothes,  moved  aside  at  the  sound 
of  wheels,  then  turned  round,  and  did  not  conceal  their 
enthusiastic  admiration  of  the  queen's  haughty  beauty 
and  the  aristocratic  appearance  of  little  Zara. 

Now  and  then  a  little  bold  face  would  pop  out  from 
the  hedge,  and  a  voice  would  cry  out,  — 

"Good  morning,  Madame  !  " 

Was  it  Elys^e's  words,  the  splendid  weather,  or  the 
joyousness  which  extended  even  to  the  distant  horizon, 
which — the  factories  being  idle  —  was  clear  as  in  the 
real  country,  or  was  it  this  cordial  greeting,  which  made 
Fr^d^rique  feel  a  kind  of  sympathy  for  this  Sunday  of  the 
workmen,  who  were  almost  all  touchingly  neat,  consider- 
ing their  hard  labor  and  rare  leisure  ? 

As  for  Zara,  he  could  not  keep  still,  but  fairly  shook 
with  delight,  and  would  have  liked  to  leave  the  carriage, 
and  roll  on  the  lawns  and  sail  in  the  boats  with  the  other 
children. 

Soon  the  landau  reached  paths  that  were  less  noisy, 
where  people  were  reading  and  sleeping  on  benches,  and 
couples  were  walking  close  beside  each  other  through  the 
groves.  There  was  mystery  here  in  the  shade,  with  the 
air  cooled  by  fountains,  and  with  the  real  woody  scents 
of  the  forest,  and  with  birds  chirping  in  the  branches. 
But,  as   they  left   the  lake  where  it  was  noisiest  behind 


yOYS  OF  THE   PEOPLE.  167 

them,  the  echo  of  another  gay  party  reached  their  ears 
distinctly.  Shots,  the  rattling  of  money-boxes  and  tam- 
bourines, the  sound  of  trumpets  and  ringing  of  bells,  were 
heard  apart  from  a  wave  of  sound  which  suddenly  rolled 
towards  them  like  a  cloud  of  smoke  over  the  sun. 

"  What  is  the  matter?  What  is  it  we  hear?  "  asked  the 
little  prince. 

"  The  Gingerbread  Fair,  your  Highness,"  said  the  old 
coachman,  turning  round  on  his  seat ;  and,  as  the  queen 
consented  to  approach  the  festive  scene,  the  carriage, 
which  was  now  out  of  the  park,  wound  through  a  number 
of  lanes  and  partly  built  roads,  where  new  houses,  six 
stories  high,  rose  by  the  side  of  wretched  hovels,  and 
between  a  gutter  from  the  stable  and  a  market-garden. 
Everywhere  were  small  pleasure-gardens,  with  arbors 
and  little  tables,  and  the  posts  of  a  swing  all,  painted  the 
same  ugly  green.  Streams  of  people  poured  out  from 
them,  and  there  was  a  crowd  of  soMiers,  —  the  shakos 
of  artillery-men,  the  white  gloves.  They  made  but  little 
noise,  and  were  listening  to  the  harpist  and  violinist 
walking  around,  and  who,  having  permission  to  play 
between  the  tables,  were  rattling  off  an  air  from  "  Favo- 
rita  "  or  "  Trovatore  ;  "  for  this  mocking  people  of  Paris 
adores  sentimental  music,  and  bestows  its  money  freely 
when  amused. 

Suddenly  the  landau  stops.  Carriages  go  no  farther 
than  the  entrance  to  this  broad  court-yard  of  Vincennes, 
along  which  the  fair-grounds  extend,  having  for  a  back- 
ground, in  the  direction  of  Paris,  the  two  columns  of  the 
Gate  du  Trone,  which  rise  in  the  dusty  atmosphere  of  the 
suburbs.  The  sight  of  a  bustling  crowd  beyond,  in  a  real 
street  of  immense  booths,  made  Zara's  eyes  kindle  with 
such  eager,  childlike  curiosity,  that  the  queen  proposed 


1 68  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

to  alight.  This  desire  of  the  proud  Frdd^rique  to  go  on 
foot  through  the  dust  of  a  Sunday  crowd  was  so  extraor- 
dinary, that  Elysee  was  surprised,  and  hesitated. 

"There  is  danger,  then?"  said  the  queen. 

"  Oh  !  not  the  least,  Madame.  Only,  if  we  go  on  the 
fair-grounds,  it  is  better  that  no  one  should  accompany 
us.     The  livery  would  cause  too  much  remark." 

At  the  cjuccn's  orders,  the  tall  footman,  who  was  about 
to  follow  them,  resumed  his  place  on  the  box ;  and  they 
agreed  that  the  carriage  should  wait.  They  did  not, 
however,  intend  to  go  all  around  the  fair-grounds,  but 
only  walk  a  few  steps  in  front  of  the  first  booths. 

At  the  entrance  there  were  little  movable  benches,  a 
table  covered  with  a  white  napkin,  and  firing  at  rabbits, 
and  roundabouts.  The  people  passed  by  disdainfully, 
without  stopping.  Then  there  was  something  being  fried 
in  the  open  air,  which  gave  out  a  choking  odor  of  burnt 
grease ;  and  rosy  flames  burst  forth,  between  which  and 
piles  of  sugared  fritters  kitchen-boys  dressed  in  white 
were  moving  busily  two  and  fro.  And  the  maker  of 
marshmallow-paste  was  pulling  and  twisting  into  great 
rings  the  white  mass  fragrant  with  almond.  The  little 
prince  looked  on  with  amazement.  It  was  so  new  to 
him,  who,  caged  like  a  canary,  had  been  brought  up  in 
the  lofty  rooms  of  a  castle,  enclosed  within  the  gilded 
fence  of  a  park ;  and  who  had  grown  up  amid  scenes  of 
terror  and  distrust,  walking  out  only  when  accompanied, 
and  never  seeing  the  people,  except  from  a  balcony,  or  a 
carriage  surrounded  with  guards. 

At  first  he  felt  frightened,  and  walked  close  to  his 
mother,  holding  her  hand  tightly ;  but  gradually  he  be- 
came excited  by  the  noise,  nnd  the  odors,  and  the  grind- 
ing of  the  organs.     To  judge  by  the  manner  in  which  he 


JOYS   OF   THE  PEOPLE.  1 69 

pulled  Fr^d^riqu-j  along,  he  seemed  to  have  a  mad  desire 
to  run,  and  was  in  a  conflict  between  the  desire  to  stop 
everywhere  and  that  of  going  ahead  ;  on  and  on,  —  yon- 
der, where  the  noise  was  loudest  and  the  crowd  was 
largest.  Thus,  without  perceiving  it,  they  were  farther 
away  from  the  starting-point,  as  unconscious  of  it  as  the 
swimmer  whom  the  water  floats  along,  and  the  more 
easily  because  no  one  remarked  them  ;  because,  among 
all  those  flashy  toilets,  the  queen's  graceful  costume  of 
several  tawny  shades  —  dress,  cloak,  and  hat  to  match  — 
passed  unnoticed,  as  the  quiet  elegance  of  Zara,  with 
large  starched  collar,  short  jacket,  and  bare  calves,  merely 
caused  several  good  women  to  say,  "  He  is  English."  He 
walked  between  his  mother  and  Elys^e,  who  smiled  to 
each  other  at  his  joy. 

"  O  Mother  !  see  that !  Monsieur  Elys^e,  what  are 
they  doing  over  there  ?  Let  us  go  and  see."  And,  from 
one  end  of  the  avenue  to  the  other,  they  went  in  curious 
zigzags  deeper  into  the  thickening  crowd,  following  its 
swaying  motion. 

"  Suppose  we  return,"  proposes  Elys^e  ;  but  the  child 
is  like  one  intoxicated.  He  entreats,  and  pulls  his 
mother's  hand ;  and  she  is  so  happy  at  seeing  her  little 
sleepy  one  roused  from  his  torpor,  and  she  herself  is  so 
excited  by  the  fermentation  of  the  people,  that  they  go  on 
farther  and  farther.  The  day  becomes  hotter,  as  if  the 
sun  on  going  down  were  gathering  stormy  mists  at  the 
end  of  its  beams ;  and,  as  the  sky  changes,  the  fete  with 
its  thousand  colors  assumes  a  fairy-like  aspect.  It  is  the 
hour  for  parade.  All  the  members  of  the  circus  and 
the  people  in  the  booths  are  out  under  the  banners  of 
the  entrance,  in  front  of  the  canvas  signs,  which  swell 
with  the  wind,  making  the  large  animals,  acrobats,  and 
gymnasts  that  are  painted  on  them  seem  alive. 


17©  A'/NGS  IN  EX/r.E. 

This  is  the  exhibiiion  of  the  great  military  piece,  a  dis- 
play of  Charles  IX.  and  Louis  XV.  costumes,  arquebuses, 
guns,  wigs,  and  plumes  mingled  together,  with  the  "  Mar- 
seillaise "  played  by  the  brass  band.  Opposite,  colts  be- 
longing to  a  circus,  and  guided  by  white  reins,  like  a 
bride's  horses,  perform  some  masterly  steps  on  the  plat- 
forms, count  with  their  hoofs,  and  bow  from  the  chest  ; 
and  on  one  side  the  real  mountebank's  booth  exhibits  its 
clown  in  a  checked  vest,  its  little  Aztecs  in  their  tights, 
and  a  tall  girl  with  sunburnt  face,  dressed  in  pink  like  a 
ballet-dancer,  and  who  tosses  gold  and  silver  balls,  bot- 
tles, and  knives,  their  shining,  clinking,  metal  blades 
crossing  above  her  hair,  which  is  piled  up  and  fastened 
with  glass  pins. 

The  little  prince  is  rapt  in  admiration  of  this  beauti- 
ful person,  till  a  queen  —  a  real  queen  of  fairy-tales,  with  a 
brilliant  diadem,  and  a  short  tunic  of  silvery  gauze,  and 
feet  crossed  one  over  the  other — appears  before  him  lean- 
ing over  the  balustrade. 

He  would  never  have  wearied  of  looking  at  her,  had 
not  the  band  diverted  him,  —  an  extraordinary  band, 
composed  neither  of  French  guards  nor  acrobats  in  pink 
tights,  but  of  real  men  of  the  world.  A  gentleman  with 
short  whiskers,  shining  pate,  and  soft  boots,  deigned  to 
play  the  comet;  while  a  lady,  —  a  real  lady,  having  a 
somewhat  solemn  appearance  like  Madame  de  Silvis,  —  in 
a  silk  mantle,  and  hat  trimmed  with  waving  flowers,  was 
looking  to  the  right  and  left,  shaking  a  big  money-box, 
and  jerking  out  her  arms  till  the  chenille  fringe  of  her 
mantle  was  tossed  up  into  the  roses  on  her  hat. 

Who  could  tell?  Perhaps  she,  too,  was  a  member  of 
some  royal  family  whom  misfortune  had  befallen. 

But  the  fair-ground  presented  many  other  astonishing 


JOYS  OF   THE  PEOPLE.  17I 

sights.  In  an  endless  but  continually  varied  panorama 
were  bears  dancing;  negroes  wearing  only  a  strip  of 
linen  ;  men  and  women  devils  in  close  purple  skull-caps ; 
wrestlers  struggling ;  famous  tumblers  with  one  fist  on 
their  hips,  and  balancing  above  the  crowd  the  tights  des- 
tined for  the  amateur ;  a  fencing-mistress  in  a  cuirass 
waist,  and  red  stockings  with  gold  coins,  her  face  cov- 
ered with  a  mask,  and  hands  in  leather  gauntlet-gloves 
like  those  of  a  jester ;  a  man  in  black  velvet,  who  re- 
sembled Columbus  or  Copernicus,  describing  magic 
circles  with  a  diamond-headed  whip ;  while  from  behind 
the  platform  there  arose  a  dead  odor  of  hide  and  the 
stable,  and  one  heard  the  roar  of  the  wild  beasts  in  the 
Garel  menagerie.  All  these  living  curiosities  were  mingled 
with  those  which  were  only  represented  by  paintings,  — 
female  giants  in  ball-dress,  with  bare  shoulders,  and  their 
arms  from  the  short  sleeve  to  the  closely  buttoned  glove 
in  pink  eider-down ;  clairvoyants  looking  into  the  future 
as  they  sat  with  bandaged  eyes,  and  near  them  a  black- 
bearded  doctor;  monsters,  freaks  of  nature,  and  every 
kind  of  eccentricity  and  queer-looking  object,  which 
were  sometimes  curtained  only  by  two  large  sheets  held 
by  a  cord,  with  the  money-box  for  the  proceeds  on  a 
chair. 

And  everywhere,  at  every  step,  was  to  be  seen  the 
king  of  the  fefe,  —  gingerbread  of  every  shape  and  ap- 
pearance, that  was  found  in  stores  draped  with  red  and 
fringed  with  gold.  It  was  covered  with  satin  figured 
paper,  tied  with  favors,  and  decorated  with  sugar-work 
and  roasted  almonds.  It  was  in  the  form  of  men,  flat, 
and  of  a  grotesque  appearance,  and  represented  Parisian 
celebrities,  Amanda's  lover,  Prince  Queue  de  Poule  with 
his  inseparable  Rigolo.  The  gingerbread,  which  exhaled 
12 


172  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

a  pleasant  fragrance  ot  honey  and  cooked  fruits,  was  car- 
ried in  baskets  and  on  portable  stands  through  the  slowly 
moving  crowd,  which  was  closely  packed,  and  among 
which  progression  was  becoming  very  difficult.  It  was 
impossible  at  present  to  retrace  one's  steps.  It  was  ne- 
cessary to  follow  thfs  despotic  current,  to  move  uncon- 
sciously, puslied  forward  and  backward  towards  this 
booth,  then  to  the  other ;  for  the  living  wave  which  presses 
to  the  centre  of  the  festivities  tries  to  make  its  way  out  at 
the  sides  where  there  is  not  a  possibility  of  finding  an 
opening.  There  are  bursts  of  laughter,  and  jokes  are 
made  during  this  continual  and  unavoidable  elbowing. 

The  queen  has  never  seen  the  people  so  near.  With 
their  breath  almost  in  her  face,  and  feeling  the  rough 
contact  of  their  strong  shoulders,  she  is  astonished  at 
feeling  neither  disgust  nor  terror,  and  advances  with  the 
others  with  the  hesitating  step  one  takes  in  a  crowd  whose 
solemn  tread  seems  like  that  of  an  advancing  host  when 
there  are  no  carriages. 

The  good  humor  of  all  these  people,  the  exuberant 
gayety  of  her  son,  and  the  quantities  of  baby-carriages 
continuing  to  wind  about  in  the  thickest  of  the  crowd, 
re-assure  her. 

"Don't  push!  don't  you  see  there  is  a  baby  ?  "  —  not 
one,  but  ten,  twenty,  hundreds  of  children  borne  on  the 
mothers'  bosoms  and  on  the  fathers'  backs.  And  Fr^de- 
rique  gives  an  amiable  smile  when  she  sees  pass  one  of 
these  little  children  of  the  people  of  about  the  same  age 
as  her  son.  Elysee  begins  to  feel  anxious.  He  knows 
what  a  crowd  is,  calm  as  it  may  be  in  appearance,  and 
the  danger  of  its  ebb  and  flow.  If  one  of  those  big 
clouds  above  them  should  burst  into  rain,  what  a  panic 
and  confusion  there  would  be  !     And   his   imagination, 


yOYS  OF  THE  PEOPLE.  173 

which  was  always  lively,  pictured  the  scene,  —  the  horrible 
stifling,  the  crowding  close  together,  and  such  crushes  as 
are  seen  in  the  Place  Louis  XV.,  that  formidable  rushing 
of  a  whole  people  to  the  centre  of  an  overcrowded  Paris, 
and  but  two  steps  from  large  deserted  avenues  that  could 
not  be  reached. 

The  little  prince  feels  very  warm  between  his  tutor  and 
his  mother,  who  hold  him  up  and  protect  him.  He 
complains  of  not  being  able  to  see  any  thing.  Then,  like 
the  workmen  around  him,  Elysee  lifts  him,  and  carries  him 
on  his  shoulder  :  and  the  little  fellow  bursts  into  new  ex- 
clamations of  delight ;  for  from  that  height  the  view  of  the 
scene  is  splendid.  Against  a  sunset  sky  traversed  by 
alternate  streams  of  light  and  floating  shadow,  far  away  in 
the  dim  perspective  between  two  columns  of  a  gate,  flutter 
banners  and  bright  colors  and  the  canvas  in  front  of  the 
booths.  The  light  wheels  of  the  great  fandangoes  raise 
one  by  one  the  small  cars  filled  with  people  ;  and  an  im- 
mense merry-go-round  with  three  tiers,  varnished  and  col- 
ored like  a  plaything,  turns  mechanically  with  its  fantastic 
lions,  leopards,  and  tarasques,  on  which  the  children  are 
as  stiff  in  their  motions  as  little  jumping-jacks.  Nearer 
clusters  of  red  balloons  are  flying  in  the  air  ;  and  innumer- 
able windmills  of  yellow  paper  are  revolving  like  suns  in 
fireworks,  and,  rising  above  the  crowd,  are  quantities  of 
little  heads  with  hair  light  as  smoke,  like  Zara's.  The  rays 
of  the  setting  sun,  now  paling,  threw  on  the  clouds  reflec- 
tions of  brilliant  color,  lighting  and  darkening  objects  in 
turn,  and  giving  still  greater  movement  to  the  perspective. 
They  fall  on  a  harlequin  and  a  colombine,  two  frisking 
white  spots,  —  one  opposite  the  other  in  a  pantomime  in 
chalk  on  the  dark  background  of  a  booth  \  yonder  a  tall 
bent  fellow  with  the  pointed  hat  of  a  Greek  shepherd  is 


174  KTNGS  IN  EXILE. 

making  motions  as  if  he  were  pushing  the  dark  stream  of 
people  on  the  steps  of  his  booth  inside,  as  one  shovels 
into  an  oven.  This  fellow  keeps  his  mouth  wide  open  ; 
but,  though  he  shouts  and  roars,  no  one  can  hear  him 
any  more  than  they  can  hear  a  bell  which  is  furiously  rung 
in  the  corner  of  a  platform,  or  the  firing  of  a  gun  just 
loaded  and  discharged.  Every  separate  sound  is  lost  in 
the  general  uproar  of  elements  made  up  of  all  kinds  of 
discords,  —  rattles  and  reed-pipes,  gongs,  tambourines, 
speaking-trumpets,  the  roaring  of  wild  beasts,  organs  from 
Barbary,  and  whistling  of  steamboats.  Each  tried  to  see 
who  could  use  the  noisiest  instrument  the  longest  to 
attract  the  crowd,  as  one  captures  bees  by  noise  ;  and  from 
the  tilts  and  swings  came  shrill  screams,  while  every  ten 
minutes  the  whistle  of  steam-cars  passing  on  a  level  with 
the  fair-grounds  rose  above  this  mad  din. 

Suddenly  fatigue,  and  the  stifling  air  among  the  crowd, 
and  the  dazzling  sun  which  for  five  hours  has  been  send- 
ing down  hot,  oblique  rays,  in  which  many  brilliant,  flash- 
ing things  have  been  revolving,  make  the  queen  giddy  ; 
and,  overcome,  she  stops.  She  has  only  time  to  seize 
Elys^e's  arm  to  save  herself  from  falling ;  and,  while  she 
supports  herself  and  clings  to  him,  erect  and  pale,  she 
murmurs  in  a  very  low  voice,  "  Nothing  :  it  is  nothing." 
But  her  head,  in  which  the  nerves  were  painfully  throbbing, 
and  her  whole  body,  lose  sensation  for  a  moment.  "  Oh, 
never  will  this  moment  be  forgotten  !  "  thought  Elysee. 

But  it  is  over.  Fred^rique  is  strong  now.  A  breath  of 
fresh  air  on  her  forehead  has  revived  her ;  yet  she  does 
not  let  go  of  her  protector's  arm  :  and  the  footsteps  of 
his  queen  keeping  pace  with  his,  and  the  warm,  gloved 
hand  on  his  arm,  cause  him  inexpressible  emotion.  The 
danger,  the  crowd,  Paris,  and  the  fete  are  forgotten :  he 


yOVS  OF   THE  PEOPLE.  175 

is  in  the  impossible  country  where  dreams  are  realized  in 
all  their  magic  and  extravagance. 

Lost  in  the  multitude,  he  walks  without  hearing  or  see- 
ing it,  borne  on  as  on  a  cloud  enveloping  him  to  the  eyes, 
and  carried  insensibly  out  of  the  avenue.  And  there  he 
comes  back  to  earth,  and  becomes  conscious  of  what  is 
around  him.  The  queen's  carriage  is  far  away  :  there  is 
no  means  of  reaching  it.  They  must  walk  to  the  Rue 
Herbillon,  following  wide  paths  in  the  fading  light  and 
the  streets  that  were  lined  with  inns  full  of  people,  and 
merry-makers  passing  by.  It  is  a  reale  scapade  ;  but  none 
of  them  think  of  their  strange  manner  of  returning.  The 
little  Zara  keeps  up  a  continual  chatter  like  all  children 
after  a  fete,  eager  to  express  through  their  little  mouths 
the  impressions  and  ideas  received  through  their  eyes. 

Elysee  and  the  queen  remained  silent.  He,  still  trem- 
bling, tried  to  recall  and  again  to  banish  the  memory  of 
the  deUcious  and  thrilling  moment  which  revealed  to  him 
the  secret,  the  sad  secret,  of  his  life.  Fr^derique  is 
thinking  of  all  the  strange  new  things  she  has  seen.  For 
the  first  time  she  has  felt  the  beating  of  the  people's 
heart ;  she  has  leaned  her  head  on  the  lion's  shoulder, 
and  has  received  a  strong,  sweet  impression,  like  a  loving, 
protecting  clasp  of  the  arms. 


176  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE   GREAT    SCHEME. 

The  door  was  shut  in  a  brusque,  lordly  manner,  send- 
ing a  gust  of  wind  from  one  end  of  the  agency  to  the 
other,  causing  a  flutter  among  blue  veils,  the  little  feath- 
ers in  travelling  hats,  mackintoshes,  and  the  bills  held 
between  the  clerks'  fingers.  Hands  were  extended,  and 
heads  bowed.  J.  Tom  Levis  had  just  entered.  He  cast 
a  smile  around,  gave  two  or  three  orders  to  the  book- 
keeper, stayed  only  long  enough  to  ask,  in  an  extraordi- 
narily exultant  tone,  if  they  had  "  sent  off  the  package  to 
his  Highness  the  Prince  of  Wales,"  and  was  already  in 
his  office.  The  clerks  winked  to  each  other  that  their 
employer  was  in  a  good  humor.  It  was  very  evident  that 
something  new  had  happened.  The  quiet  Sephora  her- 
self, behind  the  railing  of  her  desk,  understood  this,  and 
said  to  Tom,  in  a  low  voice,  when  he  entered,  — 

"  What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Great  things,"  answered  Tom,  with  a  broad,  silent 
laugh,  and  roUing  his  eyes  around,  as  was  his  way  on 
great  occasions. 

"  Come  ! "  he  beckoned  to  his  wife.  And  both  de- 
scended the  fifteen  steep,  narrow  steps,  edged  with  cop- 
per, and  which  led  to  a  small  boudoir  on  the  lower  fl:oor, 
which  was  very  daintily  carpeted  and  hung  with  drapery, 
and  contained  a  lounge  and  dressing-table,  and  was  al- 
ways lighted  by  gas ;  the  little  port-hole,  through  which 


THE   GREAT  SCHEME.  1 77 

came  the  daylight  from  the  Rue  Royale,  being  closed  by 
ground  glass  as  thick  as  horn.  From  here  one  gained 
entrance  to  the  cellars  and  yard,  which  enabled  Tom  to 
go  in  and  out,  without  being  seen,  to  avoid  bores  and 
creditors,  who  are  called,  in  Parisian  slang,  "paves ;^^  that 
is  to  say,  people  or  things  who  obstruct  circulation.  In 
business  as  complicated  as  that  of  the  agency,  such  ruses 
are  indispensable ;  for  life  otherwise  would  be  wasted  in 
quarrels  and  contests. 

The  oldest  of  Tom's  clerks — men  who  had  served  him 
for  five  or  six  months  —  had  never  descended  into  this 
mysterious  basement,  which  Sephora  alone  had  the  right 
to  visit.  It  was  the  agent's  private  retreat,  where  he  met 
his  inner  self  and  his  conscience  ;  the  cocoon  from  which 
he  emerged  transformed  ;  a  sort  of  comedian's  box  which, 
moreover,  the  boudoir,  with  a  glare  of  light  from  the 
gas-burners  falling  on  the  marble,  the  furbelowed  drapery 
of  the  toilet-table,  and  the  singular  comic  performances 
in  which  J.  Tom  Levis  was  indulging  at  this  moment, 
very  much  resembled  just  now.  With  one  turn  of  the 
hand  he  pulled  off  his  long  frock  coat,  and  flung  it  away ; 
then  one  waistcoat,  then  another,  —  the  variegated  ones  of 
a  circus-performer.  He  next  unwound  the  ten  metres 
of  white  muslin  which  formed  his  cravat,  the  bands  of 
flannel  one  above  the  other  around  his  waist ;  and  from 
this  majestic  and  apoplectic  rotundity,  which  was  seen 
flying  about  Paris  in  the  first  and  only  cab  known  at  that 
time,  there  emerged  all  at  once,  with  an  "  Ot/ff  "  of  satis- 
faction, a  little,  lean,  nervous  man,  not  bigger  than  an 
unwound  reel,  —  a  frightful  Paris  rough,  fifty  years  old, 
who,  one  would  hav©  said,  had  been  saved  from  a  fire 
or  drawn  from  a  lime-kiln,  with  the  wrinkles,  seams,  and 
scars  of  one  who  had  been  scalded,  yet  with  a  young 


lyS  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

and  boyish,  air  like  the  old  leaders  of  '48,  — the  real 
Tom  Levis ;  that  is  to  say,  Narcissus  Poitou,  the  son  of  a 
joiner  in  the  Rue  de  TOrillon. 

Having  grown  up  among  the  chips  from  his  father's 
bench  till  he  was  ten  years  old,  and  from  ten  to  fifteen 
having  been  brought  up  by  the  Mutuelle  and  in  the 
street,  that  incomparable  school  in  the  open  air.  Nar- 
cissus in  his  earliest  years  felt  a  horror  of  the  people  and 
manual  trades ;  while  at  the  same  time  there  was  devel- 
oped in  him  a  consuming  imagination,  which  the  Parisian 
gutter,  with  all  the  heterogeneous  matter  it  collects,  fed 
better  than  a  voyage  across  the  ocean. 

While  quite  a  child,  he  made  plans  and  business-pro- 
jects. And  later  this  castle-building  prevented  him  from 
concentrating  his  powers  and  making  them  productive. 
He  travelled,  and  took  up  a  thousand  trades,  —  a  miner 
in  Australia,  a  squatter  in  America,  a  comedian  in  Bata- 
via,  a  bar-tender  in  Bruxelles.  After  having  contracted 
debts  on  both  sides  of  the  water,  and  being  stripped  by 
creditors  in  the  four  comers  of  the  universe,  he  estab- 
lished himself  as  a  business-agent  in  London,  where  he 
lived  quite  a  long  time,  and  where  he  might  have  suc- 
ceeded had  it  not  been  for  his  terrible,  insatiable  imagi- 
nation, always  seeking  something  new,  —  the  imagination 
of  a  voluptuary  ever  anticipating  the  next  pleasure,  only 
to  be  thrown  back  on  the  dreary  British  poverty.  This 
time  he  rolled  very  low,  and  was  picked  up  at  night  in 
Hyde  Park  as  he  poached  the  swans  in  the  pond.  A 
few  months  of  prison  completed  his  disgust  for  free 
England ;  and,  returning  in  a  shipwrecked  condition,  he 
was  stranded  on  the  Parisian  sidewalk  which  he  started 
from.  It  was  another  fantastic  caprice,  joined  to  his 
instincts  of  a  showman  and  comedian,  which  led  him  to 


THE   GREAT  SCHEME.  1 79 

get  himself  naturalized  as  an  Englishman  in  the  very 
centre  of  Paris,  which  was  easy  for  him  on  account  of 
his  knowledge  of  the  manners,  tongue,  and  Anglo-Saxon 
ways.  This  came  to  him  at  once,  by  instinct,  in  his  first 
business  undertaking,  —  in  his  first  "great  hit"  as  an 
agent. 

"Whom  shall  I  announce?"  he  was  insolently  asked 
by  a  tall  rascal  in  livery. 

Poitou  looked  so  shabby  and  so  sad  in  the  vast  ante- 
room, and  trembled  so  lest  he  be  sent  away  before  he 
could  be  heard,  that  he  felt  the  need  of  rising  above  all 
this  by  something  abnormal  and  foreign. 

"  Adh/  announce  Sir  Tom  Levis,"  he  said. 

And  he  immediately  felt  self-possessed  under  this  name 
improvised  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  and,  in  this  bor- 
rowed nationality,  amused  himself  by  perfecting  peculiari- 
ties and  eccentricities  and,  while  watching  his  accent  and 
bearing,  very  quickly  corrected  his  exuberant  dash,  which 
enabled  him  to  invent  traps,  while  he  was  apparently  seek- 
ing his  words. 

It  was  very  singular,  that,  of  the  numberless  combina- 
tions of  his  brain,  —  which  was  full  of  discoveries,  —  this, 
the  least  sought  of  all,  succeeded  the  best. 

He  owed  Sephora's  acquaintance  to  it.  She  was  then 
keeping  a  kind  of  "  family  hotel "  in  the  Champs  Elys^es, 
—  a  dainty  lodging-house,  three  stories  high,  with  pink 
curtains,  and  a  little  porch  on  the  Avenue  d'Antin,  between 
two  broad  asphalt  walks  enlivened  with  verdure  and 
flowers.  The  mistress  of  the  house,  who  was  always 
dressed,  sat  at  a  window  on  the  first  floor,  and  presented  to 
the  beholder  her  calm,  di\ine  profile  bowed  over  some 
piece  of  work  or  her  account-book.  Within  was  a 
strangely   foreign   society  —  clowns,  bookmakers,  circus- 


l8o  AVA'GS  IN  I  XILE. 

riders,  horse-dealers,  and  all  the  Anglo-American  Bohemia, 
—  the  worst  of  all,  —  the  scum  of  mining-districts  and 
gambling-towns.  The  female  servants  were  recruited  from 
the  cjuadrilles  at  the  Mabille,  from  which  the  violins  could 
be  plainly  heard  on  summer  evenings,  mingled  with  the 
noise  of  family  disputes,  and  the  rattling  of  counters  and 
louis  ;  for  they  played  heavily  after  dinner. 

If,  perchance,  some  honest  family  from  abroad,  de- 
ceived by  the  deceitful  facade,  came  to  take  up  their 
quarters  at  Sephora's,  the  strange  appearance  of  the 
guests,  and  the  tone  of  their  conversation,  very  quickly 
drove  them  away  in  horror  before  their  trunks  were 
hardly  unpacked.  Among  all  these  adventurers  and  spec- 
ulators. Master  Poitou  —  or  rather  Tom  Levis,  the  little 
tenant  lodging  under  the  eaves  —  very  quickly  obtained  a 
situation  by  his  gayety,  his  versatility,  and  his  experience 
in  every  kind  of  business.  He  invested  the  servants' 
money,  and  through  them  gained  the  mistress's  confi- 
dence. And  how  could  he  but  have  it  with  his  good, 
open,  smiling  face,  and  that  indefatigable  life  and  spirit 
which  made  him  a  valuable  guest  at  the  table  d'hote,  warm- 
ing up  a  patron,  baiting  a  trap  for  him,  the  moving  spirit 
in  bets  and  consummations  ?  Cold  and  distant  to  every 
one,  the  beautiful  hostess  of  the  family  was  free  only 
with  Monsieur  Tom.  Often  in  the  afternoon,  when  he 
went  out  or  came  in,  he  stopped  in  the  little  office  of  the 
hotel,  which  was  very  neat,  and  all  mirrors  and  sparkle. 
Sephora  told  him  her  business-affairs,  showed  him  her 
jewels  and  her  books,  consulted  him  about  the  day's  bill 
of  fare,  or  the  care  necessary  to  give  a  large,  flowering, 
horn-shaped  arum,  drinking  up  the  water  from  a  Minton 
china  pot.  They  laughed  together  over  love-letters  and 
proposals  of  every  kind  that  she  received  ;  for  hers  was  a 


THE   GREA  T  SCHEME.  l8l 

beauty  that  sentiment  did  not  alter.  Being  without  pas- 
sion, she  preserved  her  sangfroid  everywhere  and  always, 
and  treated  love  as  a  business.  It  is  said  that  it  is  only 
the  first  lover  who  counts ;  that  of  Sephora  —  the  sexa- 
genarian chosen  by  her  father  —  froze  her  blood  forever, 
and  perverted  love.  She  saw  in  it  only  money,  and  also 
intrigue,  nises,  and  trade ;  this  admirable  creature  hav- 
ing been  bom  in  the  bric-a-brac  shop,  and  only  for  the 
bric-a-brac  shop.  Gradually  a  tie  was  formed  between 
her  and  Tom,  —  a  friendship  like  that  of  an  uncle  to  a 
ward.  He  advised  and  guided  her,  and  always  with  a 
skill  and  fertility  of  imagination  which  charmed  her  bal- 
anced, methodical  nature,  in  which  Jewish  fatalism  was 
mingled  with  the  heavy  Flemish  temperament.  She  had 
never  planned  or  imagined  any  thing,  living  only  in  the 
present  moment ;  and  Tom's  brain  —  that  piece  of  fire- 
works that  was  always  lighted  —  could  but  dazzle  her. 
What  completed  it  was  to  hear  her  boarder  say  one  even- 
ing, as  he  took  his  key  fi-om  the  desk,  after  talking  bar- 
barous French  in  the  most  comical  manner,  — 
"  And,  you  must  know,  I'm  no  EngHshman  at  all." 
From  that  day  she  became  enamoured  ;  or  rather  —  for 
sentiments  are  of  no  value  unless  labelled  —  she  went 
crazy  over  him,  as  a  woman  of  the  world  is  crazy  about 
the  comedian,  whom,  away  from  the  footlights,  paint,  and 
his  stage-dress,  she  alone  knows  such  as  he  is,  and  not 
what  he  appears  to  others.  Love  always  demands  to  be 
privileged.  Then  both  came  from  the  same  Parisian  gut- 
ter :  it  had  soiled  the  hem  of  Sephora's  petticoats,  and 
Narcissus  had  rolled  in  it ;  but  they  both  preserved  the 
stains  of  such  contact,  and  their  low  tastes.  The  stamp 
of  the  faubourg,  and  the  dissolute  lines  on  the  distorted 
face  of  the  rough,  which  helped  him  in  his  mimicry,  and 


1 82  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

which  sometimes  Hfted  a  corner  of  llie  mask  from  the  face 
of  the  EngHshman,  Sephora  showed  in  sudden  expressions 
in  the  bibhcal  Hnes  of  her  face,  and  in  the  scornful,  com- 
mon laugh,  which  rang  out  from  a  mouth  resembling  that 
of  Salom^.  This  singular  love  of  the  beauty  and  the 
beast  increased  as  the  woman  entered  more  into  the  life 
of  the  showman,  and  into  the  confidence  of  his  plots  and 
monkey  tricks,  —  from  the  invention  of  the  cab  to  that  of 
the  multiple  waistcoats,  by  the  aid  of  which  Tom  Levis, 
not  being  able  to  grow  tall,  tried  at  least  to  appear  majes- 
tic ;  and  also  as  she  associated  herself  to  a  life  full  of 
chance,  excitement,  bold  projects,  and  dreams,  and  de- 
voted to  both  grand  and  small  affairs. 

This  monkey-man  had  so  much  power,  that,  after  a  ten- 
years'  lawful  home  with  him,  he  still  amused  and  charmed 
her  as  at  the  first  time  they  met.  One  would  have  been 
convinced  of  this  at  seeing  her  on  this  day  lying  back 
on  the  lounge  of  the  little  salon,  rolling  around  con- 
vulsed with  laughter,  while  saying  with  an  ecstatic,  admir- 
ing air,  — 

"Isn't  he  bright?  isn't  he  bright?"  while  Tom,  in 
colored  tights  and  knitted  hose,  and  reduced  to  his  most 
sober,  bald,  angular,  bony  appearance,  was  frisking  about 
in  the  maddest  of  jigs. 

When  both  were  weary,  —  she  of  laughing,  and  he  of 
dancing  the  jig,  —  he  threw  himself  on  the  lounge,  brought 
his  monkeyfied  face  close  to  that  angelic  head,  and,  blow- 
ing his  exultant  words  into  her  face,  said,  — 

"  The  Sprichts  are  done  for  !  The  Sprichts  are  put 
out  of  the  way  !  I  have  found  the  way  to  make  my 
strike." 

"  Are  you  certain  ?    Who  is  it  ?  " 

At  the  name  he  gave,  Sephora  made  up  a  pretty,  scorn- 
ful little  face. 


THE   GREAT  SCHEME,  1 83 

"What !  that  great  canary  !  But  he  has  not  a  sou 
now.  We  have  stripped,  shaved,  and  shorn  him,  —  he  and 
his  Lion  of  Illyria.  There  isn't  that  much  of  wool  on  his 
back." 

"  Don't  run  down  the  Lion  of  Illyria,  my  girl :  the  skin 
alone  is  worth  two  hundred  millions,"  said  Tom,  recover- 
ing his  usual  coolness. 

The  woman's  eyes  glowed.  He  repeated,  emphasiz- 
ing every  syllable,  — 

"  Two  hundred  millions  !  " 

Then  coolly  and  clearly  he  explained  the  scheme  to  her. 
Christian  II.  must  be  made  to  accept  the  proposals  of 
the  Diet,  and  give  up  his  rights  to  the  crown  for  the  large 
price  that  was  offered  him.  Indeed,  what  was  it?  A 
signature  to  be  given — no  more. 

Christian  of  himself  would  have  consented  long  ago ; 
but  the  influence  around  him  —  that  of  the  queen  in  par- 
ticular —  prevented  him  from  signing  that  renunciation. 
But  he  must  come  to  it  some  day  or  other.  There  was 
no  longer  a  sou  in  the  house.  They  owed  every  one  in 
Saint  Mand^,  —  the  butcher,  the  grain-dealer ;  for,  in  spite 
of  the  poverty  of  the  masters,  there  were  still  horses  in 
the  stable,  and  the  house  was  fitted  up  and  the  table  laid 
with  every  appearance  of  luxury,  although  there  were 
serious  privations  in  the  background. 

The  royal  linen,  marked  with  the  crown,  was  becoming 
full  of  holes  in  the  press  ;  and  they  were  not  replacing  it. 
The  stables  were  empty ;  the  largest  pieces  of  silver  were 
pawned ;  and  the  servants,  of  whom  there  were  not 
enough,  were  often  kept  waiting  for  their  wages  for 
months.  All  these  details  Tom  had  from  Lebeau,  the 
valet-de-chambre,  who  also  told  him  about  the  two  hun- 
dred millions  proposed  by  the  Diet  of  Laybach,  and  the 


1 84  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

scene  which  took  place  when  the  proposition  was  re- 
ceived. 

Since  the  king  knew  that  there  were  two  hundred  mil- 
lions for  him  close  at  hand,  obtainable  by  a  penful  of 
ink,  he  was  no  longer  the  same  man  :  he  neither  laughed 
nor  spoke,  and  retained  this  one  fixed  idea  like  a  neural- 
gic spot  on  the  same  side  of  the  forehead.  He  was 
surly  as  a  bear,  and  gave  heavy  sighs  without  speaking  a 
word.  But  nothing  was  changed  in  his  household  ser- 
vice. The  secretary,  valet-de-chambir,  coachman,  and 
footmen  remained ;  and  there  was  the  same  costly  luxury 
in  furnishing  and  style.  Fr^d^rique,  in  her  wounded 
pride,  believing  she  could  hide  her  distress  by  her  hau- 
teur, would  never  have  permitted  the  king  to  be  deprived 
of  any  thing.  When  he  happened  to  take  his  meals  at 
the  Rue  Herbillon,  the  table  must  be  luxuriously  set. 
What  was  wanting,  however,  and  what  she  could  not  fur- 
nish, was  pocket-money  for  the  club,  play,  and  young 
women.  Evidently  this  would  make  the  king  yield. 
Some  fine  morning,  after  late  hours  spent  at  a  game  of 
baccarat  and  bouillotte,  not  being  able  to  pay  and  unwill- 
ing to  owe, — think  of  Christian  of  Illyria  being  pub- 
lished at  the  Royal  Club  !  —  he  would  take  his  best  pen, 
and  with  one  stroke  sign  his  abdication  as  a  monarch. 
The  thing  would  have  already  happened  if  old  Rosen, 
secretly,  and  in  spite  of  being  forbidden  by  Fr^derique, 
had  not  begun  to  pay  his  Majesty's  debts  again.  So 
the  plan  was  to  make  him  exceed  his  small  current 
debts,  and  draw  him  into  real  expenses,  into  various 
kinds  of  engagements,  which  would  exceed  the  old  duke's 
resources.  This  required  considerable  money  to  be  ad- 
vanced. 

"  But,"  said  Tom  Levis,  "  it  is  such  a  splendid  opera- 


THE   GREAT  SCHEME.  185 

tion,  that  funds  will  not  be  lacking.  The  best  thing  to  do 
would  be  to  speak  to  your  father,  and  work  it  in  "the 
family.  Only  what  bothers  me  is  the  mainspring,  —  the 
woman." 

"  What  woman?  "  asked  Sephora,  opening  her  innocent 
eyes  very  wide. 

"The  one  who  will  put  the  halter  round  the  king's 
neck.  We  must  have  some  one  who  will  steadily  eat  into 
his  income,  —  a  serious  girl  with  a  sound  stomach,  who 
will  snatch  at  the  big  pieces  at  once." 

"Amy  F^rat,  perhaps." 

"  No,  no  !  worn  out,  —  a  thousand  times  worn  out ; 
and,  besides,  not  serious  enough.  She  would  feast  and 
sing,  and  have  a  good  time  like  young  persons  generally, 
but  is  not  the  woman  to  fritter  away  her  little  million  a 
month  quietly,  without  appearing  to  touch  it,  keeping 
people  waiting  for  pay,  and  buying  things  at  retail  by  the 
square  centimetre,  which  is  much  dearer  than  to  buy  a 
piece  of  land  in  the  Rue  de  la  Paix." 

"  Oh  !  I  see  very  well  how  the  thing  must  be  man- 
aged," said  Sephora  dreamily.     "But  who  will  do  it?" 

"Ah  !  that  is  it:  who?" 

And  the  smile  they  exchanged  was  equivalent  to  a 
compact. 

"  Go  on  with  it,  since'  you  have  begun." 

"What  !  do  you  know?  " 

"  Do  I  not  see  his  game  when  he  looks  at  you,  and 
plants  himself  before  your  desk  as  soon  as  he  thinks  I 
have  gone  out?  Besides,  he  makes  no  mystery  of  it,  but 
tells  his  love  to  whomever  will  hear  it.  He  has  even 
written  it  down,  and  put  his  signature  against  it  in  the 
book  at  the  club." 

On  learning  the  story  of  the  bet,  the  quiet  Sephora 
became  roused. 


iS6  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

"  Ah,  truly  !  Two  thousand  louis  that  he  would  win 
me,  indeed  !  ITiat  is  too  much."  And,  saying  this,  she 
rose,  walked  about  a  little  to  shake  off  her  anger ;  then, 
returning  to  her  husband,  continued  :  — 

"You  know,  Tom,  for  more  than  three  months  this 
great  booby  has  been  hanging  round  my  chair.  Well, 
listen  :  not  even  that." 

A  grating  sound  was  heard,  as  though  a  stout  little  claw 
were  being  snapped  at  by  a  tooth  ready  to  bite. 

She  told  the  truth.  Since  the  king  had  pursued  her,  he 
had  not  succeeded  further  than  to  touch  the  end  of  her 
fingers,  to  bite  her  pen-handles  after  her,  and  get  intox- 
icated by  the  touch  of  her  dress.  Such  a  thing  had  never 
happened  to  this  Prince  Charming  before,  spoiled  as  he 
was  by  women,  besieged  by  entreating  smiles  and  per- 
fumed letters.  His  pretty,  curly  head,  which  bore  the 
impress  of  a  crown,  the  heroic  legend  which  the  queen 
wisely  proclaimed,  and,  above  all,  the  bewildering  perfume 
which  surrounds  worshipped  beings,  brought  him  real 
success  in  the  faubourg.  More  than  one  young  woman 
could  have  shown  a  ouistiti  from  the  royal  cage,  wrapped 
up  on  a  lounge  in  her  aristocratic  boudoir ;  and  in  the 
green-room,  in  general  monarchical  and  conservative, 
it  would  set  up  a  young  lady  to  have  the  portrait  of 
Christian  II.  in  her  album.  This  man,  accustomed  to 
find  eyes,  lips,  and  hearts  come  out  to  him,  and  to  never 
cast  a  glance  without  seeing  it  thrill  whomsoever  it  met, 
had  been  dancing  attendance  upon  the  calmest,  coldest 
nature  he  had  ever  seen.  She  played  the  model  cashier, 
counted,  ciphered,  and  turned  heavy  pages,  showing  her 
sighing  admirer  only  the  velvety  roundness  of  her  profile, 
with  the  shadow  of  a  smile  rising  at  one  comer,  and 
reaching  her  eyehds. 


THE   GREAT  SCHEME.  1 87 

His  capricious  Slavonian  nature  at  first  caused  him  to 
take  pleasure  in  this  struggle,  and  his  self-love  had  part  in 
it  also.  All  the  eyes  of  the  Royal  Club  were  directed 
towards  him ;  and  it  ended  by  becoming  a  true  passion, 
fed  by  the  void  of  his  unoccupied  existence,  in  which  the 
flame  burned  without  a  check. 

He  came  every  day  towards  five  o'clock,  —  the  pleas- 
antest  part  of  the  day  in  Paris,  —  the  hour  for  calls,  when 
the  pleasure  engagements  for  the  evening  are  made  ;  and 
gradually  all  the  young  men  from  the  club,  who  lunched 
at  the  agency  and  hovered  around  Sephora,  respectfully 
yielded  the  place  to  him.  This  desertion,  diminishing 
the  sum  of  small  current  affairs,  increased  the  lady's  cold- 
ness ;  and,  as  the  Lion  from  Illyria  brought  nothing  to  her, 
she  began  to  let  Christian  feel  that  he  bored  her,  —  that 
he  monopolized  rather  too  royally  the  corner  of  the  rail- 
ing she  left  open  ;  when  all  at  once  —  the  next  day  after 
her  conversation  with  Tom  —  all  this  changed. 

"  Your  Majesty  was  seen  last  evening  at  the  Fantai- 
sies?" 

At  this  question,  asked  with  an  anxious,  sad  look. 
Christian  H.  felt  deliciously  moved. 

"  It  is  a  fact.     I  was  there." 

"Not  alone?" 

"  But "  — 

"  Ah  !  there  are  some  fortunate  women." 

Immediately,  as  if  to  lessen  the  provocation  of  her 
words,  she  added,  that  for  a  long  time  she  had  been 
crazy  to  go  to  that  little  theatre  "to  see  that  Swedish 
dancer,  you  know."  But  her  husband  took  her  no- 
where. 

Christian  proposed  to  take  her. 

"  Oh  !  you  are  too  well  known." 

13 


1 88  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

"  But  we  should  be  out  of  sight,  in  the  back  part  of  a 
box." 

They  made  a  rendezvous  for  the  next  day,  for  Tom 
was  to  pass  the  evening  out.  What  a  dehghtful  escapade  ! 
Sephora  in  the  front  of  the  box,  in  an  artistic,  quiet 
toilet,  was  radiant  with  childlike  joy  at  seeing  this 
foreigner  dance,  who  was  now  the  celebrity  in  Paris,  —  a 
Swede,  with  a  thin  face  and  angular  gestures,  whose 
brilliant  black  eyes,  filling  the  whole  iris,  like  rat's  eyes, 
contrasted  with  her  fair  hair ;  and  being  dressed  in  black, 
as  she  flew  about  silently,  she  resembled  a  great,  frightened 
bat. 

"  Oh,  how  I  enjoy  it !  how  I  enjoy  it !  "  said  Sephora. 

And  this  king,  a  high  liver,  who  sat  motionless  behind 
her,  with  a  box  of  bon-bons  on  his  knees,  could  not 
remember  a  more  delightful  sensation  than  the  touch  of 
her  bare  arm  under  the  lace,  and  her  sweet,  fresh  breath, 
as  she  turned  her  face  to  him.  He  drove  her  back  to 
the  Saint  Lazare  station,  since  she  was  going  to  the 
country,  and  in  the  carriage  was  carried  away  by  impulse, 
and  threw  his  arms  around  her,  and  clasped  her  to  his 
heart. 

"  Oh ! "  said  she  sadly,  "  you  will  spoil  all  my  pleas- 
ure." 

The  immense  waiting-room  on  the  ground-floor  was 
deserted,  and  dimly  lighted.  Both  were  seated  on  one 
bench.  Sephora,  shivering,  was  wrapped  up  in  Christian's 
ample  fur.  Here  she  was  no  longer  afraid,  and  spoke 
softly  into  the  king's  ear.  From  time  to  time  a  clerk 
would  go  by  swinging  his  lantern,  or  some  troop  of  come- 
dians living  in  the  suburbs,  and  returning  home  after  the 
theatre.  Among  them  a  mysterious  couple,  with  arms 
around  each  other,  were  walking  apart. 


THE   GREAT  SCHEME.  i8r 

"  How  happy  they  are  !  "  murmured  Sephora.  "  No 
ties,  no  duties.  Following  the  impulse  of  their  hearts. 
All  else  is  a  mockery." 

She  knew  something  about  it,  alas  !  and  suddenly,  car- 
ried away  as  if  by  impulse,  she  related  her  sad  life  with  a 
sincerity  which  touched  him,  telling  of  the  snares  and 
temptations  in  the  streets  of  Paris  for  a  girl  whom  her 
father's  avarice  made  poor,  and  the  gloomy  story  of  her 
being  sold  at  sixteen,  and  all  being  over  with  her  life ;  the 
four  years  passed  with  this  old  man  to  whom  she  was  only 
a  nurse ;  and  afterwards,  not  wishing  to  go  back  to  father 
Leeman's  shop,  the  necessity  of  having  a  guide  and  sup- 
port which  made  her  marry  this  Tom  Levis,  a  moneyed 
man.  She  was  a  devoted  wife,  deprived  herself  of  all 
pleasure,  and  buried  herself  alive  in  the  country  ;  then  put 
herself  to  work  as  his  clerk,  and  did  not  get  a  thank  you, 
or  a  favor  from  this  ambitious  man,  who  was  full  of  his 
affairs,  who  at  the  least  sign  on  her  part  of  rebellion,  or 
the  least  desire  to  enjoy  life,  brought  up  the  past,  for 
which  she  was  not  responsible. 

"This  past,"  said  she,  rising,  "which  brought  upon  me 
the  shameful  outrage  of  your  name  on  the  book  of  the 
Royal  Club." 

The  bell  for  the  departure  of  the  cars  brought  this  lit- 
tle theatrical  effect  to  a  close  just  at  the  right  point.  She 
moved  away  with  her  gliding  step,  the  soft  folds  of  her 
black  dress  following  her  motions,  waved  a  farewell  to 
Christian  with  her  eyes  and  hand,  and  left  him,  amazed 
and  motionless,  overcome  by  what  he  had  just  heard. 
She  knew  then.  But  how?  Oh,  how  angry  he  was  with 
himself  for  his  baseness  and  bragging  !  He  passed  his 
night  in  writing  and  in  asking  pardon  in  French,  sown 
with  all  the  flowers  of  his  national  poetry,  which  compares 


igo  ICINGS  IN  EXILE. 

the  well-beloved  to  the  timid  doves  and  the  rosy  fruit  of 
the  azarola. 

It  was  a  wonderful  invention  of  Sephora,  this  reproach 
about  the  bet.  It  gave  her  full  power  over  the  king, 
and  for  a  long  time,  and  also  explained  her  coldness, 
and  almost  hostile  reception,  and  the  profit  she  in- 
tended to  make  from  it  in  the  furtherance  of  her  plans. 
Ought  not  a  man  to  endure  every  thing  from  her  to 
whom  he  has  offered  such  an  affront  ?  Christian  became 
the  timid  servant,  docile  under  all  her  caprices,  the  titled 
cicisbeo,  —  known  as  such  to  all  Paris ;  and,  though  the 
lady's  beauty  might  be  his  excuse  in  the  eyes  of  the  world, 
it  was  not  pleasant  to  have  the  husband's  friendship  and 
intimacy. 

"My  friend  Christian  II.,"  Tom  Levis  would  say, 
drawing  up  his  little  figure.  He  once  had  a  fancy  to 
receive  him  at  Courbevoie,  an  event  which  caused 
Spricht  one  of  those  jealous,  angry  fits  which  shortened 
the  days  of  the  illustrious  dressmaker.  The  king  went 
over  the  house  and  park  ;  went  on  board  the  yacht ;  con- 
sented to  have  his  photograph  taken  on  the  doorsteps 
between  the  host  and  hostess,  who  wished  to  perpetuate 
the  memory  of  this  never-to-be-forgotten  day  ;  and  in  the 
evening,  while  they  were  sending  off,  in  honor  of  his  Ma- 
jesty, fire-works,  whose  rockets  were  reflected  in  the  Seine, 
Sephora,  leaning  on  his  arm,  said  to  him,  as  they  walked 
along  the  hedges,  which  were  rosy  with  the  color  of 
a  Bengal  light,  — 

"  Oh,  how  I  should  love  you  if  you  were  not  a  king  ! " 

It  was  her  first  avowal,  and  very  shrewd.  All  the 
women  till  now  had  adored  him  as  a  sovereign,  for  his 
glorious  title  and  ancestry.  This  one  really  loved  him 
for  himself.     "  If  you  were  not  a  king."     But  he  was  so 


THE   GREAT  SCHEME.  191 

little  of  one,  he  would  so  willingly  have  sacrificed  the  frag- 
ment of  dynastic  purple  which  barely  covered  his 
shoulders  ! 

Another  time  she  explained  herself  still  better.  When 
he  was  disturbed  at  finding  her  pale  and  weeping,  she 
answered  his  questions  by  saying,  — 

"  I  fear  that  soon  we  shall  not  be  able  to  see  each 
other  any  more." 

"Why  not?" 

"  My  husband  has  just  declared  that  business  was  too 
dull  for  him  to  stay  in  France,  and  that  he  must  close  his 
store,  and  go  elsewhere." 

"  Would  he  take  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  am  only  a  check  to  his  ambition  !  He  said  to 
me, '  Come,  if  you  wish.'  And  I  must  follow  him.  What 
would  become  of  me  all  alone  here?  " 

"  Cruel  woman,  am  I  not  here?  " 

She  looked  at  him  fixedly  straight  into  his  eyes. 

"Yes,  it  is  true  :  you  love  me.  And  I  also  love  you. 
I  could  be  yours  without  shame.  But,  no  :  it  is  impossi- 
ble." 

"Impossible?"  he  asked  breathlessly  at  the  glimpse 
of  paradise  opened  before  him. 

"You  are  too  much  above  Sephora  Levis,  your  Ma- 
jesty." 

And  he  replied,  with  adorable  fatuity,  — 

"  But  I  will  raise  you  to  my  position.  I  will  make  you 
a  countess  or  a  duchess.  It  is  one  of  the  rights  left  me  ; 
and  we  will  find  a  lovers'  nest  somewhere  in  Paris,  where 
I  will  establish  you  in  a  manner  worthy  your  rank,  and 
where  we  will  live  all  alone,  —  only  ourselves. 

"  Oh,  that  would  be  too  beautiful !  " 

She  became  dreamy,  and  raised  her  tearful  eyes,  which 


192  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

were  as  frank  as  those  of  a  little  girl ;  then  said 
quickly,  — 

"  But,  no  :  you  are  a  king.  Some  day,  in  the  midst  of 
my  happiness,  you  would  leave  me." 

"  Never  !  " 

"And  if  you  should  be  recalled?" 

"Where?  To  Illyria?  All  is  over  there  forever.  I 
lost  last  year  one  of  those  opportunities  which  do  not 
come  twice." 

"  Is  it  true  ?  "  she  said,  with  a  joy  which  was  not  feigned. 
"  Oh,  if  I  were  sure  of  it ! " 

There  came  to  his  lips  to  convince  her  a  word  which 
he  did  not  speak,  but  which  she  understood  plainly  ;  and, 
in  the  evening,  Tom  Levis,  whom  Sephora  kept  informed 
of  all,  declared  solemnly  that  things  had  come  to  the 
right  point ;  that  they  must  notify  her  father. 

Charmed,  like  his  daughter,  by  Tom  Levis's  imagi- 
nation, contagious  spirits,  and  inventive  gabble,  Leemans 
several  times  placed  money  in  the  operations  of  the 
agency.  After  having  gained,  he  lost,  following  in  this 
the  chances  of  the  game  ;  but  when  he  had  been  "  taken 
in,"  as  he  expressed  it,  two  or  three  times,  the  good  man 
stopped.  He  made  no  recriminations  nor  became 
angry,  knowing  too  well  what  business  was,  and  detesting 
useless  words  ;  only,  when  his  son-in-law  came  to  talk  to 
him  about  joint  stock  for  one  of  those  marvellous  castles 
in  the  air  which  his  eloquence  raised  to  the  skies,  the  old 
bric-a-brac  dealer  smiled  in  his  beard,  with  a  movement 
of  his  lips,  which  signified  very  plainly,  "  Ov-over :  it  is 
over  !  "  and  lowered  his  eyelids,  which  seemed  to  bring 
Tom's  extravagances  to  reason,  and  to  the  level  of  prac- 
ticable things.  Tom  knew  this  ;  and,  as  he  wisely  insisted 
that  this  Illyrian  affair  should  not  go  out  of  the  family, 


THE   GREAT  SCHEME.  1 93 

he  sent  Sephora  to  the  bric-d-brac  dealer,  who,  as  he 
grew  old,  began  to  feel  something  like  affection  for  his 
only  child,  with  whom,  besides,  he  felt  as  if  he  were 
living  again. 

Since  the  death  of  his  wife,  Leemans  had  given  up  his 
curiosity-store  in  the  Rue  de  la  Paix,  contenting  himself 
with  his  second-hand  bric-d-brac  shop. 

It  was  there  that  Sephora  visited  him  one  morning 
early,  to  be  sure  of  meeting  him ;  for  the  old  man  re- 
mained at  home  but  little.  Being  immensely  rich,  and 
having  retired  from  business  at  least  in  appearance,  he 
continued  to  ransack  Paris  from  morning  till  evening ; 
ran  after  the  merchants,  and  followed  sales,  seeking  the 
atmosphere  and  the  contact  of  business  ;  and,  above  all, 
watching  with  marvellous  acuteness  the  crowd  of  small 
traders,  mechanics,  dealers  in  pictures  and  trinkets,  with 
whom  he  was  associated,  without  acknowledging  it  for 
fear  his  fortune  might  be  suspected. 

Sephora,  through  caprice  and  a  reminiscence  of  her 
youth,  came  on  foot  from  the  Rue  Royale  to  the  Rue  Egin- 
hard,  following  almost  the  same  road  which  she  used  to 
take  formerly  from  the  store.  It  was  not  eight  o'clock. 
The  air  was  keen,  and  towards  the  Bastille  there  remained 
of  the  dawn  an  orange  cloud,  in  which  the  gilded  genius 
on  the  column  appeared  to  bathe  his  wings.  A  crowd  of 
pretty  girls  from  the  faubourg  came  from  this  direction, 
through  the  side  streets,  on  their  way  to  work.  If  Prince 
d'Axel  had  risen  early  enough  to  watch  them  come  down, 
he  would  have  been  content  this  morning.  Walking 
very  fast  in  twos  and  threes,  and  chatting  in  a  sprightly 
manner,  they  reached  the  swarming  shops  in  the  streets 
Saint  Martin,  Saint  Denis,  and  Vieille  du  Temple,  and  a 
few  elegant  ones,  the  stores  in  the  boulevards,  farther  off, 


194  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

but  oi)ening  later.  It  was  not  like  the  animation  in  the 
evening,  when,  their  work  being  done,  they  return  home, 
with  their  heads  full  of  a  day  in  Paris,  laughing  and 
frolicking,  but  often  filled  with  regret  for  that  luxury  of 
which  they  had  had  a  glimpse,  which  made  the  attic 
seem  higher  up,  and  the  staircase  darker. 

But,  if  these  young  faces  still  showed  traces  of  sleep, 
rest  had  beautified  them  with  a  freshness  which  was 
completed  by  their  carefully  dressed  hair,  with  an  end  of 
ribbon  fastened  in  its  braids  and  under  their  chin,  and  by 
their  black  dresses,  which  were  hastily  brushed  before 
daylight.  Here  and  there  glittered  a  false  jewel  at  the 
tip  of  an  ear  rosy  with  the  cold,  a  bright-red  comb,  the 
gilt  ornaments  of  a  buckle  at  the  waist,  and  the  white  line 
of  a  newspaper  folded  in  the  pocket  of  a  waterproof. 
And  how  full  of  courage  they  hurried  along,  dressed  in 
light  cloaks  and  scant  skirts,  walking  unsteadily  on  heels 
too  high  for  ease,  and  which  constant  running  about  had 
worn  on  one  side  !  All  seemed  to  be  bom  to  flirt.  They 
had  a  pecuUar  way  of  walking  with  their  foreheads  up  in 
the  air,  and  with  their  eyes  looking  straight  ahead,  as  if 
curious  to  know  what  would  happen  on  the  day  just 
begun.  Their  natures  were  on  the  qui  vive  for  a  change 
of  fortune,  as  their  Parisian  type,  which  is  no  type  at  all, 
is  capable  of  any  transformation. 

Sephora  was  not  sentimental,  and  never  saw  any  thing 
beyond  material  things  and  the  present  hour ;  yet  this 
confused  tramping,  and  hasty  rustling  of  skirts,  amused 
her.  She  saw  her  own  youth  in  all  these  pretty  faces, 
under  this  morning  sky,  in  this  old  neighborhood  which 
is  so  curious,  and  where  each  street  has  on  the  corner- 
signs  the  name  of  noted  merchants,  just  as  it  was  fifteen 
years  ago. 


THE   GREAT  SCHEME.  1 95 

In  passing  under  the  black  arch  which  serves  as  an 
entrance  to  the  Rue  Eginhard,  in  the  direction  of  the  Rue 
Saint  Paul,  she  brushed  by  the  long  robe  of  the  rabbi  who 
was  going  to  the  neighboring  synagogue  ;  and,  two  steps 
farther  off,  the  rat-catcher  with  his  pole  and  board  from 
which  are  suspended  the  sleek  bodies,  —  a  type  of 
ancient  Paris  which  one  only  sees  in  this  medley  of 
mouldy  houses,  where  all  the  rats  in  the  town  make  their 
head-quarters.  Farther  on  was  a  coachman  —  whom, 
when  she  was  a  shop-girl,  she  used  to  see  going  to  market 

—  moving  heavily  in  his  stout  boots,  not  much  used  to 
walking,  and  holding  in  his  hand  with  precious  care, 
and  upright  as  a  communicant's  taper,  the  whip,  which 
is  the  coachman's  sword,  the  insignia  of  his  rank,  and 
which  never  leaves  him.  At  the  door  of  two  or  three 
stores  which  filled  the  whole  street,  and  from  which  they 
were  removing  the  shutters,  she  saw  the  same  bundles  of 
rags,  and  heard  the  same  Hebraic  and  Tudesque  jargon ; 
and  when,  after  having  crossed  the  low  porch  of  her  father's 
house,  the  little  court,  and  the  four  steps  leading  to  the 
shop,  she  pulled  the  string  of  the  cracked  latch,  it  seemed 
to  her  that  there  were  fifteen  years  less  on  her  shoulders, 

—  fifteen  years  which  hardly  weighed  on  them. 

As  in  those  days,  Darnet  came  to  the  door.  She  was  a 
robust,  Auvergnat  woman,  whose  shining,  florid  face  had 
heavy  shadows  around  the  eyes  and  mouth.  Her  dotted 
shawl  was  drawn  closely  around  her,  and  the  head-dress 
bordered  with  white  seemed  to  have  the  mourning  hue  of 
a  charcoal-shop.  Her  role  in  the  house  was  apparent  by 
the  very  manner  in  which  she  opened  the  door  to  Sepho- 
ra,  and  the  smiles  on  the  puckered  Ups  of  the  two  womea 

"Is  father  in?" 

"  Yes,  Madame,  in  the  shop.     I  will  call  him." 

"  It  is  not  necessary.     I  know  where  that  is." 


196  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

She  passed  through  the  anteroom  and  the  salon,  and 
in  three  strides  crossed  the  garden,  a  black  well  between 
tall  walls,  where  grew  several  trees,  its  narrow  paths  encum- 
bered by  numberless  pieces  of  rubbish,  old  iron,  lead,  old- 
fashioned  banisters,  and  strong  chains  whose  blackened 
and  oxidized  metal  blended  with  the  sad  box-plants,  and 
the  greenish  tinge  of  the  old  fountain  in  the  garden.  On 
one  side  was  a  shed  overflowing  with  debris,  skeletons  of 
broken-down  furniture  of  every  age,  with  heaps  of  tapes- 
try rolled  up  in  the  corners ;  on  the  other  was  a  shop  with 
ground-glass  windows  for  protection  from  curious  eyes  in 
neighboring  stories. 

A  mass  of  wealth  rose  to  the  ceiling  in  apparent  disor- 
der, and  was  known  for  its  true  value  only  by  the  old 
man.  There  were  lanterns,  chandeliers,  torch-holders, 
screens,  censers,  and  antique  and  foreign  bronzes.  In 
the  background  were  two  blacksmith's  furnaces,  a  joiner's 
bench,  and  that  of  a  locksmith.  It  was  here  that  the 
bric-a-brac  dealer  brushed  up,  copied,  and  rejuvenated 
old  models  with  wonderful  skill,  and  the  patience  of  a 
monk.  Formerly  there  was  a  great  deal  of  noise  from 
morning  until  night,  five  or  six  workmen  surrounding  the 
master.  Nothing  was  now  heard  but  the  clicking  of  a 
hammer  on  fine  metal,  and  the  scratching  of  a  file.  The 
single  lamp  lighted  in  the  evening  showed  that  there  was 
life  in  the  shop. 

When  his  daughter  entered,  the  old  Leemans  —  in  a 
large  leather  apron,  with  the  sleeves  of  his  shirt  turned  up 
on  fair  and  hairy  arms,  which  looked  as  if  bits  of  copper 
from  the  bench  had  clung  to  them  —  was  about  to  forge 
in  a  vice  a  Louis  XIII.  chandelier,  a  model  of  which 
he  had  before  his  eyes.  At  the  sound  of  the  door  he 
raised  his  ruddy  face,  which  was  lost  in  abundant  red  hair 


THE   GREAT  SCHEME.  197 

and  beard,  streaked  with  white,  and  knitted  his  uneven 
eyebrows,  from  which  his  eyes  looked  out  as  from  the 
shaggy  hair  of  a  griffin. 

"  G'morning,  pa  !"  said  Sephora,  pretending  not  to  see 
the  embarrassed  movement  of  the  good  man,  who  was  try- 
ing to  hide  the  torch  he  held ;  for  he  did  not  like  to  be 
disturbed  or  seen  at  his  work. 

"Is  it  you,  little  one?"  he  said,  rubbing  his  old  face 
against  the  two  delicate  cheeks.  "  What  has  happened? " 
he  asked,  pushing  her  into  the  garden.  "  Why  have  you 
risen  so  early?" 

"  I  have  something  of  great  importance  to  tell  you." 

"  Come  !  " 

He  pulled  her  towards  the  house. 

"  Oh  !  but,  you  know,  I  don't  wish  Darnet  to  be  pres- 
ent." 

"  Good,  good  !  "  said  the  old  man,  smiling  in  his  thick- 
et of  hair ;  and,  as  he  entered,  he  called  to  the  servant, 
who  was  about  to  polish  the  glass  of  a  Venetian  mirror, 
and  who  was  always  wiping  and  scrubbing,  with  a  brow  as 
polished  as  the  floor,  — 

"  Darnet,  you  will  go  into  the  garden,  and  see  if  you 
find  me  there."  ^ 

And  the  tone  with  which  this  was  said  proved  that  the 
old  pacha  had  not  yet  abdicated  in  favor  of  the  favorite 
slave.  Father  and  daughter  remained  alone  in  the  little, 
neat  bourgeois  salon,  where  the  furniture  was  in  white  slip- 
coverings,  and  the  little  wool  mats  in  front  of  the  chairs 
contrasted  with  the  topsy-turvy  mass  of  dusty  treasures  in 
the  shed  and  shop.  Like  those  skilful  cooks  who  only 
like  simple  dishes,  Leemans,  who  was  so  expert  and  curi- 
ous in  things  of  art,  did  not  have  a  vestige  of  them  in  his 

1  Translator's  Note. — A  French  idiomatic  saying,  meaning  that  one's 
company  is  not  wanted. 


198  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

own  house,  and  showed  in  this  the  merchant  that  he  was, 
by  estimating,  trading,  and  exchanging  without  passion  or 
regret.  He  was  not  hl<e  those  artists  in  trinkets,  who, 
before  giving  up  a  rare  object,  feel  anxious  as  to  the  style 
in  which  the  amateur  may  surround  it  and  set  it  off.  Noth- 
ing hung  on  the  walls  but  his  large,  life-size  portrait,  signed 
"  AVattelet,"  representing  him  at  work  among  his  bnc-a- 
brac  collection.  It  was  his  very  self,  —  a  little  less  white, 
but  unchanged,  just  as  thin  and  bent,  with  a  face  half- 
man,  half-dog,  a  flat  red  beard,  and  long,  oily  hair,  show- 
ing nothing  of  his  face  but  a  nose  reddened  by  chronic 
inflammation,  which  made  tlie  sober  tea-drinker  look  like 
a  drunkard.  The  picture  was  the  only  characteristic 
mark  of  the  room,  with  a  prayer-book  placed  edgewise 
on  the  mantel-piece.  Leemans  owed  some  successful 
business  to  this  book.  In  this  he  was  distinguished  from 
his  rivals,  —  the  old  miscreant  of  a  Schwalbach,  Mother 
Esau,  and  the  rest,  with  their  Ghetto  descent ;  for  he  was 
a  Christian,  married  through  love  to  a  Jewess,  but  still 
remaining  a  Christian,  even  a  Catholic.  This  served  him 
with  his  noble  patronesses.  He  heard  mass  in  the  ora- 
tories of  these  ladies,  —  the  Countess  Mallet,  and  the  elder 
of  the  Sismondos,  —  and  also  appeared  on  Sundays  at  Saint 
Thomas  d'Aquin  and  at  Sainte  Clotilde,  where  his  best 
patrons  went ;  while  through  his  wdfe  he  visited  the 
houses  of  the  great  Israelite  traders.  As  he  grew  older, 
this  religious  grimace  became  a  wrinkle  and  a  habit. 
Often  in  the  morning,  when  he  went  to  his  place  of  busi- 
ness, he  entered  Saint  Paul  to  "  take  "  —  as  he  said  seri- 
ously,—  "  a  little  bit  of  mass"  having  noticed  that  every 
thing  succeeded  better  on  those  days. 

"  Well !  "  he  said,  looking  slyly  at  his  daughter. 

"  A  grand  affair,  pa." 


THE   GREAT  SCHEME.  199 

She  drew  from  her  pocket  a  roll  of  bills  and  drafts 
bearing  Christian's  signature. 

"This  must  be  cashed.     Will  you  do  it?  " 

At  a  mere  glance  at  the  handwriting,  the  old  man 
made  a  grimace,  that  puckered  his  face  till  it  disappeared 
almost  entirely  under  his  bushy  hair,  after  the  manner  of 
a  hedgehog  that  bristles  up  in  defence. 

"  Illyrian  paper  !  Thanks  :  I  know  what  that  is.  Your 
husband  must  be  a  fool  to  send  you  on  such  an  errand. 
Come,  really,  have  you  any  thing  to  do  with  it?  " 

Without  allowing  herself  to  be  disturbed  at  this  recep- 
tion, which  she  expected,  she  said,  — 

"  Listen  !  "  And  in  her  deliberate  manner  she  told  him 
in  detail  all  about  the  great  scheme,  bringing,  as  proofs  to 
support  her  assertions,  the  number  of  the  "  Quernaro  " 
where  the  sitting  of  the  Diet  was  reported,  and  the  letters 
from  Lebeau  keeping  them  acquainted  with  the  situation. 
The  king,  who  was  madly  in  love,  wished  to  find  a  place 
in  which  to  enjoy  his  new  happiness.  A  superb  hotel  in 
Messina  Avenue,  a  house  thoroughly  fitted  up,  and  car- 
riages, were  what  he  wished  for  the  lady ;  and  he  was 
ready  to  sign  as  many  notes  as  was  necessary,  and  at 
whatever  rate  was  asked.  Leemans  now  opened  both 
ears,  made  objections,  asked  questions,  and  ferreted  out 
the  whole  affair,  which  had  been  so  wisely  planned. 

"  For  how  long  a  time  are  the  notes?  " 

"  For  three  months." 

"  Then  in  three  months  ?  " 

"  In  three  months  "  — 

She  made  a  movement  as  if  she  were  fastening  a 
noose,  and  puckered  up  her  quiet  lips. 

"And  the  interest?" 

"As  large  as  you  wish.     The  heavier  the  notes,  the 


200  KINGS  IN  EXIf.E. 

better ;  and  he  must  not  have  other  resources  than  he  will 
obtain  by  signing  his  renunciation." 

"And  when  he  has  signed  it?  " 

"  That  concerns  the  woman.  She  has  a  gentleman  of 
two  hundred  millions  to  nibble." 

"  And  suppose  she  keeps  every  thing  for  herself.  It  is 
necessary  to  have  a  woman  one  is  deusedly  sure  of." 

"  We  are  sure  of  her." 

"Who  is  it?" 

"  You  do  not  know  her,"  said  Sephora,  without  mov- 
ing a  muscle,  and  putting  all  the  papers  back  into  her 
little  lawyer's  bag. 

"Leave  that  here,"  said  the  old  man  eagerly.  "It  is 
a  great  deal  of  money,  you  must  know,  —  considerable 
of  a  sum  to  expend ;  but  I  will  talk  about  it  to  Pichery." 

"Take  care,  p'pa.  You  must  not  let  in  too  many 
persons.  There  are  already  ourselves,  Lebeau,  and  you. 
If  you  go  looking  for  others  "  — 

"  Only  Pichery.  You  must  remember  I  could  not  do 
it  all  alone.  It  is  a  great  deal  of  money,  —  a  great  deal 
of  money." 

Sephora  answered  coldly,  — 

"  Oh,  it  will  need  a  great  deal  more  !  " 

There  was  a  silence.  The  old  man  was  reflecting,  and 
keeping  his  thoughts  to  himself. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "I  will  do  it ;  but  on  one  condition. 
That  house  in  Messina  Avenue  will  have  to  be  furnished 
in  swell  style.  And  it  is  I  who  will  furnish  the  orna- 
ments." 

In  the  bargaining  of  the  usurer,  the  bric-a-brac  dealer 
was  showing  his  paw.  Sephora  burst  into  a  laugh,  which 
displayed  her  thirty-two  teeth. 

"  Oh,  the  old  rubbish  !  the  old  rubbish  ! "  she  said, 


THE    GREAT  SCHEME.  aOI 

using  a  word  that  the  atmosphere  of  the  shop  suddenly 
brought  back  to  her  mind,  and  which  clashed  with  ^  her 
distinguished  toilet  and  bearing.  "  Well,  it  is  agreed,  pa : 
you  will  furnish  the  ornaments.  But  nothing  from  mam- 
ma's collection,  remember." 

Under  the  hypocritical  label,  "  Madame  Leemans's 
Collection,"  the  bric-d-brac  dealer  had  gi-ouped  a  lot  of 
castaway,  unsalable  articles,  which  he  disposed  of  at  a 
magnificent  sale,  thknks  to  his  sentimental  grimace,  taking 
from  the  precious  lot  of  the  relics  of  his  dear  departed 
wife  only  what  purchasers  would  pay  for  by  their  weight 
in  gold. 

"  You  understand  me,  old  fellow,  —  no  tricks,  no 
frauds.     The  lady  knows  the  worth  of  the  articles." 

"You  think  she  does?"  said  the  old  dog  from  under 
his  mustache. 

"  As  well  as  you  and  I." 

"  But,  pray  "  —  He  approached  his  rough  face  to  her 
pretty  little  one ;  and  on  both  the  bric-d-brac  business 
was  written,  —  on  the  old  man's  parchment-skin,  and  on 
the  downy  rose-leaves  of  his  daughter. 

"  But,  pray,  who  is  this  woman  ?  You  can  certainly  tell 
me,  now  that  I  am  in  the  affair." 

"  It  is  "  — 

She  stops  a  moment,  fastens  the  broad  strings  of  her 
hat  under  her  delicate  oval  face,  looks  into  the  mirror 
with  the  satisfied  gaze  of  a  pretty  woman  and  with  a  new 
feeling  of  pride,  and  says  gravely,  — 

"  It  is  the  Countess  of  Spalato." 


202  K/NCS  IN  EXILE. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

AT  THE   ACADEMY. 

The  classical  palace  which  sleeps  under  its  cupola  at 
the  end  of  the  Bridge  of  Arts,  at  the  entrance  of  studious 
Paris,  wore  this  morning  an  air  of  unusual  life,  which 
extended  to  the  quay.  In  spite  of  the  rain,  —  a  June 
rain  coming  down  in  sharp  showers,  —  the  crowd 
thronged  round  the  steps  of  the  great  gate,  and  wound 
along  the  fences  and  walls,  and  flowed  under  the  arch  in 
the  Rue  de  la  Seine,  in  a  line  as  at  the  entrance  to  a  thea- 
tre,—  a  well-gloved,  well-dressed,  well-behaved  crowd,  who 
stood  shivering  in  patience,  knowing  they  would  enter,  as 
the  little  cards  of  different  colors  —  which  were  bright  and 
conspicuous  in  the  rain,  and  with  which  each  person  was 
provided  —  fully  proved.  The  carriages  filed  down  in  a 
regular  line  through  the  deserted  Quai  de  la  Monnaie,  — 
the  most  luxurious  equipages  that  Paris  contained,  — bear- 
ing on  their  panels  the  arms  and  grand  escutcheons  of 
France  and  all  Europe,  even  royal  devices,  with  coach- 
men in  dainty  and  showy  livery,  adorned  with  gold  braid, 
protected  democratically  by  umbrellas  and  waterproofs, 
and  with  wigs  dressed  in  the  form  of  a  hammer.  All 
formed  a  picture  like  an  immense  panoramic  d'Hosier 
unrolled  along  the  Seine.  When  a  sunbeam  pierced  the 
clouds,  —  a  gleam  of  the  Parisian  sun,  which  has  the  grace 
of  a  smile  on  a  serious  face,  —  there  was  a  glitter  like  stars 
in  the  reflections  from  the  wet  harnesses,  guards'  helmets, 


AT  THE  ACADEMY.  2O3 

the  lantern  of  the  dome,  and  the  iron  fountains  at  the 
entrance,  which  were  usually  dusty  and  tarnished,  but 
were  now  of  a  beautiful  black,  having  been  washed  by  the 
rain. 

From  time  to  time,  on  grand  reception  days,  the 
old  Institute  has  this  unusual  and  interesting  appearance 
of  afternoon  life.  But  on  this  morning  there  was  no 
reception.  The  season  was  too  far  advanced ;  and  the 
recipients,  who  were  as  coquettish  as  comedians,  would 
never  consent  to  make  their  debut,  the  Paris  prize  being 
already  contended  for,  the  salon  closed,  and  trunks 
packed  for  a  journey.  There  was  simply  a  distribution  of 
academical  prizes,  —  a  very  quiet  ceremony,  which  usually 
attracts  only  the  families  of  those  who  win  them.  The 
cause  of  this  unusual  show  of  wealth  —  this  aristocratic 
dust  —  at  the  door  of  the  Institute  is,  that,  among  the 
works  crowned,  is  "  The  Memorial  of  the  Siege  of  Ragusa," 
by  Prince  de  Rosen,  and  by  which  the  monarchical  coterie 
have  profited  to  organize  a  manifestation  against  the  gov- 
ernment under  the  protection  of  its  police-officers.  By 
an  extraordinary  chance,  or  the  fact  of  these  intrigues 
which  mysteriously  hollow  out  mole-paths  in  the  official 
or  academical  grounds,  the  regular  secretary  being  ill,  the 
report  on  the  crowned  works  was  to  be  read  by  the  noble 
Duke  de  Fitz  Roy ;  and  it  was  known,  that,  being  a  Legit- 
imist to  the  marrow  of  his  bones,  he  would  emphasize  and 
show  off  the  most  ardent  passages  of  Herbert's  book,  — 
that  beautiful  historical  pamphlet,  on  which  were  centred 
all  the  devotion  and  all  the  fen-or  of  the  party.  In  short, 
it  was  one  of  those  malicious  protestations  which  the 
Academy  dared  attempt  even  under  the  Empire,  and 
which  the  amiable  indulgence  of  the  Republic  authorized. 

It  is  noon,  and  the  twelve  strokes  from  the  old  clock 
14 


464  A'/iV(7.<r  IN  F.xrr.E. 

cause  a  noise  and  stir  in  the  crowd.  TIk-  doors  are  open, 
and  people  advance  slowly  and  methodically  towards  the 
entrance  of  the  place  and  the  Rue  Mazarine  ;  while  the  em- 
blazoned carriages,  turning  round  in  the  court,  set  down 
their  owners  —  the  privileged  having  cards  —  under  the 
portico,  where,  aniong  ushers  with  badges,  the  affable 
chief  secretary,  in  silver  lace,  moves  around  smiling  and 
eager  as  the  good  major-domo  in  the  palace  of  the  Sleep- 
ing Beauty  in  the  Wood,  when,  after  a  sleep  of  a  hundred 
years,  the  princess  awakes  on  her  bed  of  state.  The  doors 
close  ;  the  ready  footmen  in  long  surtouts  jump  down 
from  their  boxes ;  and  there  are  greetings  and  courtesies 
of  ladies  in  sweeping  trains ;  and  smiles  and  whisperings 
among  habitues  are  exchanged  and  lost  in  a  rustle  of 
silk  on  the  carpeted  stairs  leading  to  the  reserved  seats 
or  in  the  narrow,  sloping  passage-way,  worn  by  the  foot- 
falls of  centuries,  which  leads  to  the  interior  of  the 
palace. 

The  hall  fills  in  the  form  of  an  amphitheatre  on  the 
side  reserved  for  the  public.  The  benches  are  blackened 
one  after  the  other  as  far  as  the  upper  tier,  where  the  last 
rows  of  people,  who  are  standing,  are  outlined  against  the 
oval  windows.  There  is  not  an  empty  place  :  the  room 
is  filled  with  a  sea  of  faces  on  which  falls  the  dim  light 
of  a  church  or  museum,  made  colder  still  by  the  reflec- 
tion from  the  smooth  and  yellow  stucco  on  the  walls  and 
the  marble  of  the  grand  meditative  statues,  —  Descartes, 
Bossuet,  Massillon,  —  the  glory  of  the  great  century  con- 
gealed in  motionless  attitudes. 

In  front  of  the  overflowing  semicircle,  a  few  unoccupied 
seats,  and  a  little  green  table  with  the  traditional  glass  of 
water,  await  the  Academy  and  its  officers,  who  will  enter 
presently   through   those   liigh   doors   surmounted   by  a 


AT  THE   ACADEMY.  205 

gilded  and  tomb-like  inscription,  —  "  Letters,  Sciences, 
Arts." 

All  this  is  antique,  cold,  and  ordinary,  and  contrasts 
with  the  spring  toilets,  which  give  the  hall  the  appear- 
ance of  a  flower-bed,  —  toilets  in  light  colors,  of  pale, 
dead  tints,  downy  gray,  and  the  rosy  hues  of  the  dawn, 
cut  in  the  modern  close-fitting  fashion,  with  fringes  of 
sparkling  jet  and  steel ;  and  airy  head-dresses,  a  bewilder- 
ing mass  of  mimosas  and  lace,  with  bright-hued  tropical 
birds  among  knots  of  velvet  and  sun-colored  sprays  of 
straw;  and,  in  addition,  the  constant  fluttering  of  large 
fans,  whose  delicate  odors  cause  the  eagle  of  Meaux  to 
blink  his  great  eyes. 

Bear  in  mind,  it  is  no  reason  because  one  belongs  to  the 
party  of  Old  France  that  one  should  be  musty,  and  dress 
frightfully.  All  those  in  Paris  who  may  be  considered 
exclusive,  well-born,  and  right-minded,  make  rendezvous 
here,  smile  at  each  other,  and  make  little  masonic  signs. 
Here  is  seen  the  flower  of  the  clubs,  the  cream  of 
the  faubourg,  —  a  society  which  is  not  demonstrative  nor 
very  social,  and  which  one  never  sees  at  rehearsals,  but 
only  at  the  opera  or  the  Conservatory  on  certain  days  ; 
a  conservative,  fastidious  society,  which  drapes  the  win- 
dows of  its  salons  to  shut  out  the  light  and  noise  of  the 
street,  and  is  only  heard  of  from  time  to  time  through 
death,  or  a  trial  for  divorce,  or  the  eccentric  adventure 
of  one  of  its  members,  who  is  a  hero  of  the  "  Persil " 
and  "  La  Gomme."  Among  them  were  several  noble  Illy- 
rian  families,  who  followed  their  sovereigns  into  exile,  — 
fine  types  of  men  and  women,  but  rather  too  conspic- 
uous and  foreign  in  this  refined  society.  Then  grouped 
at  certain  prominent  points  were  the  members  of  the 
academical  salons,  who,  a  long  time  in  advance,  prepare 


206  AVA'GS   IN  EXILE. 

for  the  elections,  influence  llie  votes,  and  whose  presence 
is  worth  more  to  a  candidate  than  his  weight  in  genius. 
Famous  gamblers  of  the  Empire  insinuate  themselves 
among  these  "old  leaders,"  on  whom  they  formerly  ex- 
hausted their  parvenu  irony  ;  and,  select  as  the  assembly 
was,  a  few  hangers-on  of  stage-boxes,  celebrated  for 
their  adherence  to  the  monarchy,  slipped  in  in  simple 
dress  with  two  or  three  fashionable  actresses,  whose 
faces  were  known  by  all  Paris,  and  who  were  the  more 
commonplace  and  conspicuous  because  other  women  of 
every  class  tried  to  copy  them. 

And  then  there  were  journalists  and  reporters  of  for- 
eign papers,  armed  with  every  convenience  in  writing- 
materials,  and  equipped  from  head  to  foot  as  for  a  jour- 
ney to  the  centre  of  Africa. 

In  the  little  reserved  circle  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  is 
seen  the  Princess  de  Rosen,  the  wife  of  the  winner  of 
the  prize,  who  is  charming  in  a  greenish-blue  toilet  of 
India  cashmere  and  moire  antique,  and  looks  triumphant 
and  beaming  under  her  frizzly  flaxen  hair.  Near  her  is 
a  stout  man  with  a  common  face.  Father  Sauvadon,  who 
is  very  proud  at  being  allowed  to  accompany  his  niece, 
but  who,  in  his  ignorant  zeal  and  desire  to  do  honor  to 
the  solemn  ceremony,  has  gotten  himself  up  in  evening 
dress.  This  makes  him  very  uncomfortable  ;  for  he  feels 
as  stiff  in  his  white  cravat  as  if  he  had  a  yoke  around 
his  neck.  He  watches  all  the  new-comers,  hoping  to 
find  some  one  who  will  keep  him  company  in  his  style 
of  dress ;  but  there  is  no  one. 

From  this  dazzling  mass  of  color  and  bright  faces 
there  soon  arises  a  very  loud  murmur  of  voices,  rhyth- 
mical but  distinct,  which  starts  a  magnetic  current  from 
one   end   of  the  hall  to  the  other.     The  faintest  laugh 


AT  THE   ACADEMY.  207 

ripples  out,  and  becomes  contagious ;  and  the  slightest 
recognition,  the  silent  motion  of  hands  held  out  ready 
to  applaud  in  advance,  is  perceived  from  the  top  to  the 
bottom  of  the  row  of  seats.  It  is  the  high  state  of  ex- 
citement and  the  good-natured  curiosity  one  sees  at  a 
fine  rehearsal  which  is  to  be  a  success ;  and  when  from 
time  to  time  celebrities  take  their  place,  the  rustling  of 
this  crowd  accompanies  them,  and  the  buzz  of  curiosity 
and  admiration  dies  away  only  when  they  have  passed. 
Do  you  see  up  there  above  Sully  those  two  women  who 
have  just  entered  accompanied  by  a  child,  and  who 
occupy  the  whole  front  of  a  box?  They  are  the  Queen 
of  Illyria  and  the  Queen  of  Palermo.  The  two  cousins  — 
holding  themselves  proudly  erect,  and  dressed  alike  in 
mauve  faille,  with  vests  of  ancient  embroidery,  and  the 
same  sweeping  plumes  curling  around  turban  hats  on 
the  fair  hair  of  one  and  the  dark  hair  of  the  other  —  form 
a  charming  contrast  of  two  noble  types  that  are  totally 
unlike. 

Fred^rique  has  grown  pale,  and  her  sweet  smile  has 
become  sad  and  careworn  ;  while  the  face  of  her  brunette 
cousin  bears  the  mark  of  anxiety  and  the  hardships  of 
exile.  Between  them  little  Count  Zara's  fair  curls  are 
seen  tossing  about,  his  hair  brushed  back  from  a  face 
that  is  held  more  erect,  and  that  becomes  more  vigorous 
every  day ;  while  the  expression  of  his  eyes  and  mouth 
shows  more  confidence,  —  a  true  off-shoot  of  the  king 
beginning  to  bloom.  The  old  Duke  de  Rosen  occupied 
the  back  of  the  box  with  another  person,  —  not  Christian 
II.,  who  has  escaped  a  certain  ovation,  but  a  tall  youth 
with  thick,  bushy  hair,  —  an  unknown  person,  whose  name 
will  not  be  once  pronounced  during  the  ceremony,  and 
yet  should  be  in  every  mouth ;  for  it  is  in  his  honor  that 


2o8  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

this  fete  is  given.  It  is  he  who  has  caused  this  glorious 
requiem  of  the  monarchy,  attended  by  the  last  repre- 
sentatives of  nobiHty  in  France,  and  the  royal  families 
who  took  refuge  in  Paris  :  for  they  are  all  there,  —  the 
exiled  and  the  dethroned,  —  come  to  do  honor  to  their 
cousin  Christian  ;  and  it  has  been  no  small  affair  to  place 
these  crowned  heads  according  to  rank.  Nowhere  are 
questions  of  precedence  more  difficult  to  solve  than  in 
exile,  where  vanity  leads  to  imbittered  feeling,  and 
susceptibility  becomes  inflamed  into  real  wounds. 

In  the  Descartes  Gallery,  —  all  the  galleries  bear  the 
name  of  the  statue  above  them,  —  the  King  of  West- 
phalia maintains  a  haughty  attitude,  which  renders  still 
more  striking  the  fixed  gaze  of  his  eyes,  which  look,  but 
do  not  see.  From  time  to  time  he  smiles  in  one  direc- 
tion, and  bows  in  another,  constantly  striving  to  conceal 
an  incurable  blindness ;  and  his  daughter  —  that  tall, 
slender  person,  who  seems  to  bow  her  head  under  the 
weight  of  the  golden  tresses  whose  shade  she  has  always 
concealed  from  her  father  —  aids  him  in  this  with  the 
utmost  devotion.  The  blind  king  likes  brunettes  only. 
"If  you  had  been  a  blonde,"  he  would  sometimes  say, 
while  caressing  the  princess's  hair,  "  I  believe  that  I 
should  have  loved  you  less."  They  were  a  charming 
couple,  travelling  the  path  of  exile  with  the  same  dignity 
and  quiet  pride  which  would  distinguish  their  bearing  in  a 
walk  in  the  royal  parks. 

When  Queen  Frederique  has  hours  of  discouragement, 
she  thinks  of  this  infirm  man,  led  by  this  innocent  girl, 
and  takes  comfort  in  their  pure  and  charming  example. 

Farther  on,  under  a  glaring  satin  turban,  we  see  the 
face  of  the  stout  Queen  of  Galicia,  who,  with  her  heavy 
cheeks  and  rough  complexion,  resembles  a  thick-skinned 


AT  THE  ACADEMY.  209 

red  orange.  She  cuts  a  great  dash,  puffs,  and  fans  her- 
self, and  laughs  and  talks  with  a  woman  who  has  a  white 
lace  mantilla  on  her  head,  who  is  still  young,  and  has  a 
sad,  good  face,  marked  from  her  reddened  eyelids  to  her 
pale  mouth  by  a  furrow  where  tears  have  fallen.  It  is 
the  Duchess  of  Palma,  —  an  excellent  creature,  poorly 
fitted  for  the  shocks  and  terror  caused  her  by  the  adven- 
turous monarch  of  the  highway  to  whom  her  life  is 
linked.  He,  too,  is  there,  the  great  devil ;  and,  in  famil- 
iar proximity  between  the  faces  of  the  two  women,  one 
sees  his  glistening  black  beard,  and  his  face,  which  is 
that  of  an  old  beau,  bronzed  by  the  last  expedition, 
which  was  as  costly  and  disastrous  as  the  preceding.  He 
has  played  the  king ;  has  had  a  court,  fetes,  women,  a 
Te  Deum ;  and  has  made  triumphant  entrances  over  a 
route  strewn  with  flowers.  He  has  flourished  about, 
made  laws,  danced,  furnished  food  for  ink  and  powder, 
shed  blood,  and  sown  hatred ;  and  having  lost  the  battle, 
and  set  the  example  of  each  save  himself  who  can,  he 
comes  to  recuperate  in  France,  and  find  new  recruits  to 
put  in  danger,  new  millions  to  sink.  He  wears  a  costume 
appropriate  for  travel  and  adventure,  —  a  frock-coat,  fit- 
ting close  to  his  figure,  and  ornamented  with  buttons  and 
frogs,  which  give  him  the  appearance  of  a  g>'psy.  Noisy 
young  people  are  stirring  about,  and  talking  in  loud 
voices  in  this  box,  with  all  the  freedom  of  a  court  of 
Queen  Pomare ;  and  the  national  language,  rude  and 
rough  like  small  pieces  of  shot,  bounds  from  one  to  the 
other,  accompanied  by  familiarities  of  manner  and 
speech,  with  frequent  thee-\ng  and  thou-\ng,  the  secret 
of  which  is  whispered  about  among  the  company  in 
the  hall. 

It  is  very  strange  that,  on  a  day  when  good  places  are 


2IO  A'/NGS  IN  EXILE. 

so  rare  tliat  princes  of  the  blood  arc  seen  in  the  amphi- 
theatre, a  httle  box  —  the  Bossuet  box  —  is  empty. 
Every  one  asks  who  is  to  come  into  it ;  what  great  dig- 
nitary, and  wliat  sovereign  stopping  at  Paris,  is  so  long 
in  appearing,  and  will  let  the  exercises  begin  without 
him.  Now  the  old  clock  strikes  one ;  and  a  quick,  sharp 
shout  is  heard  outside,  "Carry  —  arms!"  and,  at  the 
automatic  clicking  of  shifted  guns,  Letters,  Sciences,  and 
Arts  make  their  appearance  through  the  lofty  doors  that 
are  thrown  wide  open. 

What  is  very  remarkable  among  these  illustrious 
IDeople,  who  are  all  alert  and  eager,  —  preserved,  it  may 
be  said,  by  a  principle,  the  power  of  tradition,  —  is,  that 
the  oldest  affect  a  youthful  manner  and  sprightliness, 
while  the  youngest  try  to  appear  the  more  grave  and 
serious  the  less  gray  their  hair.  The  general  aspect  lacks 
grandeur,  with  the  stiff,  modern  style  of  dressing  the 
hair,  black  costumes,  and  frock-coats.  The  wig  of  Boi- 
leau,  or  of  Racan,  whose  large  greyhound  ate  his  ad- 
dresses, would  have  had  more  power  and  a  more  dig- 
nified presence  in  such  a  place.  But  there  was  some- 
thing of  the  picturesque  in  two  or  three  frock-coats, 
whose  wearers  were  seated  high  up  before  the  table  and 
the  glass  oi  eau  sucree  ;  and  one  of  them  pronounces  the 
consecrated  words,  "The  meeting  has  begun."  But  he 
says  it  in  vain  :  no  one  believes  it,  and  he  does  not  him- 
self. He  knows  very  well  that  the  real  meeting  is  not 
this  report  about  the  Montyon  prizes,  which  one  of  the 
most  fluent  in  the  assembly  delivers,  and  modulates  in 
sing-song  style. 

A  model  of  an  academical  address,  written  in  academ- 
ical style,  with  such  phrases  "as  a  little,"  "as  it  were ;  " 
which    obliges    the    thought    to   continually   retrace   its 


AT  THE  ACADEMY.  211 

steps,  like  a  penitent  who  has  forgotten  sins  at  con- 
fession ;  a  style  ornamented  with  rhetorical  figiu-es, 
redundancies,  and  fine  flourishes  of  the  pen  like  those 
of  a  writing-master,  and  which  run  between  the  phrases 
to  conceal  and  round  out  the  void;  a  style  which 
needs  to  be  learned,  and  which  every  one  here  puts  on 
with  his  coat  with  green  palm-leaves.  Under  other 
circumstances  the  ordinary  public  frequenting  the  place 
would  have  gone  into  ecstasies  at  this  homily ;  and  you 
would  have  seen  it  stamp  and  neigh  with  delight  at  these 
flowery  phrases,  whose  climax  they  might  have  divined. 
But  to-day  one  is  hurried,  and  has  not  come  for  this  Uttle 
literary  entertainment.  Note  with  what  an  air  of  scornful 
ennui  the  aristocratic  assembly  listens  to  this  enunciation 
of  humble  devotions ;  of  fidelity  under  every  trial ;  of 
secluded,  monotonous,  drudging  lives,  which  pass  along 
on  the  pages  of  this  obsolete,  minute  phraseology  as  the 
actors  moved  in  the  tiled,  fireless  rooms  of  their  provincial 
homes.  Plebeian  names,  shabby  gowns,  old  blue  frocks, 
worn  by  sun  and  rain,  from  remote  villages,  where  for  a 
moment  one  has  a  glimpse  of  the  pointed  steeple  and 
little  low  walls  cemented  with  manure,  are  all  ill  at  ease, 
and  shrink  from  being  called  from  such  a  distance  and 
brought  into  this  fine  society  in  the  cold  light  of  the 
Institute,  which  is  as  unmerciful  as  a  photographic 
machine.  The  noble  society  is  astonished  that  there  are 
so  many  worthy  people  among  the  common  classes. 
Another,  and  still  another  !  They  haven't  ceased,  then, 
to  suffer,  and  to  be  devoted  and  heroic.  The  club-men 
declare  this  intolerable.  Colette  de  Rosen  smells  of  her 
vinaigrette  :  all  these  old  men,  all  these  poor  people  they 
are  talking  about,  to  her  mind  suggest  an  ant-hill.  Their 
faces  and  the  very  air  indicate  ennui. 


212  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

The  reader  begins  to  understand  that  he  wearies  them, 
and  hurries  through  the  Ust. 

Ah !  poor  Marie  Chalaye  d'Amb^rieux-les-Combes ! 
thou  whom  the  people  of  the  country  call  a  saint,  who 
for  fifty  years  hast  taken  care  of  thy  old  paralytic  aunt, 
hast  endowed  eighteen  little  cousins,  wiping  their  noses 
and  putting  them  to  bed  !  and  you,  worthy  Abbe  Bouril- 
lou,  pastor  of  Saint  Maximin-le-Haut !  when  you  went 
through  bitter  weather  to  carry  aid  and  consolation  to  the 
cheese-makers  in  the  mountain,  —  you  did  not  suspect 
that  the  Institute  of  France,  after  crowning  your  efforts 
with  a  public  reward,  would  feel  ashamed  of  you,  and 
scorn  you  ;  and  that  your  names,  rattled  off  and  stumbled 
over,  could  with  difficulty  be  heard  amid  the  inattention, 
and  the  buzzing  of  impatient  or  ironical  conversation. 
The  end  of  the  address  is  a  rout.  Like  a  fugitive  who 
throws  away  knapsack  and  arms  in  order  to  run  faster, 
the  speaker  skips  over  passages  relating  to  heroic  deeds 
and  angelic  self-denial  without  the  least  remorse  ;  for  he 
knows  that  the  next  day's  papers  will  reproduce  his  ad- 
dress in  full,  and  that  not  one  of  those  pretty  flowery 
sentences  will  be  lost.  But  here  it  is  at  an  end  at  last, 
with  much  applause  and  sighs  of  relief.  The  unhappy 
man  sits  down,  wipes  his  brow,  and  receives  the  con- 
gratulations of  two  or  three  colleagues,  —  the  last  ones  to 
preserve  the  purity  of  the  academical  style.  Then  there 
are  five  minutes'  intermission,  and  a  general  coughing 
among  the  people  in  the  hall,  who  stir  about  and  stretch 
themselves.  Suddenly  there  is  a  perfect  silence.  An- 
other green  coat  has  just  arisen. 

It  is  the  noble  Fitz  Roy ;  and  all  have  an  opportunity 
to  admire  him  while  he  arranges  his  bundle  of  papers  on 
the   little   table.     He  is  slender,  bent,  and  feeble,  with 


AT  THE  ACADEMY.  213 

narrow  shoulders,  and  stiff  in  his  movements ;  for  he  is 
all  elbows,  and  his  arms  are  too  long,  and  he  seems  sev- 
enty, although  but  fifty,  years  old.  On  his  worn-out, 
badly  built  body  is  a  very  little  head  with  irregular  fea- 
tures, of  deathly  pallor,  between  thin  whiskers,  and  a  few 
tufts  of  hair  like  a  bird.  Do  you  remember  Montefeltro 
in  "  Lucrezia  Borgia,"  who,  feehng  ashamed  to  live, 
drank  Pope  Alexander's  poison,  and  tottered  to  the 
back  of  the  stage  utterly  broken  down  in  mind  and 
body?  The  noble  Fitz  Roy  represented  this  person 
very  well.  Not  that  he  had  drunk  any  thing,  the  poor 
man,  —  neither  the  Borgia's  poison  nor  any  thing 
else  ;  but  he  is  the  heir  of  an  awfully  ancient  family, 
which  has  never  crossed  its  blood,  the  ofif-shoot  of  an 
exhausted  plant  too  old  to  make  a  mesalliance.  The 
green  of  the  palm-leaves  makes  him  look  still  whiter, 
and  still  more  like  a  sick  monkey.  Uncle  Sauvadon, 
however,  thinks  he  is  divine.  "  Such  a  beautiful  name, 
sir  !  "  The  women  think  him  distinguished.  A  Fitz  Roy  ! 
It  was  the  influence  of  this  name,  and  this  long  gene- 
alogy in  which  fools  and  flat  feet  certainly  were  not 
wanting,  which  —  much  more  than  his  poorly  compiled 
historical  studies,  the  first  volume  of  which  alone  showed 
merit  —  gained  him  admission  to  the  Academy.  It  is 
true  some  one  else  wrote  it  for  him ;  and  if  the  noble 
Fitz  Roy  could  see  up  there  in  Queen  Fr^derique's 
box  the  sound,  brilliant  head  from  which  his  best  work 
came,  perhaps  he  would  not  pick  up  the  sheets  of  his 
address  with  that  air  of  supreme  and  disdainful  surliness, 
and  he  would  not  begin  his  reading  by  casting  that 
haughty,  sweeping  glance  over  the  heads  of  all,  appar- 
ently seeing  nothing.  In  the  first  place,  he  skilfully  and 
lightly  skims  througli  the  smaller  works  which  the  Acad- 


214  KIJVGS  TN  EXILE. 

emy  has  just  crowned ;  and  to  show  how  much  beneath 
him  is  this  task,  and  how  httle  it  interests  him,  he  cuts 
at  will  the  names  and  titles  of  the  books  ;  for  people  must 
be  amused.  He  finally  comes  to  the  Roblot  prize,  in- 
tended for  the  finest  historical  work  published  during  the 
last  five  years. 

"This  prize,  gentlemen,  you  know,  has  been  awarded 
to  Prince  Herbert  de  Rosen  for  his  magnificent '  Memorial 
of  the  Siege  of  Ragusa.'  " 

A  formidable  burst  of  applause  greeted  these  simple 
words  sent  forth  in  a  ringing  voice ;  and,  with  the  gesture 
of  a  good  sower  of  seed,  the  noble  Fitz  Roy  lets  this 
first  burst  of  enthusiasm  subside,  then,  seeking  an  oppo- 
site effect,  which  is  apparently  unstudied  but  sure,  re- 
sumes slowly  and  deliberately  :  "  Gentlemen  "  —  Then 
he  stops,  casts  a  look  over  the  crowd  waiting  breathlessly, 
which  is  his,  and  which  he  holds  in  his  hand,  and  seems 
to  say,  "  Hein  !  if  I  did  not  choose  to  speak  any  more 
now,  who  would  be  deceived?  " 

It  is  he  who  is  deceived  ;  for,  when  he  prepares  to  con- 
tinue, no  one  listens  to  him. 

A  door  has  closed  above  in  the  box  which  till  now 
has  been  empty ;  and  a  woman  has  entered,  and  seated 
herself  without  embarrassment,  but  immediately  attracts 
attention.  The  dark  toilet,  designed  by  the  great  mo- 
diste, and  ornamented  with  the  peacock's-eye  pattern  of 
embroidery,  and  a  hat  edged  with  a  fall  of  gold  lace,  are 
charmingly  becoming  to  the  supple  figure  and  the  pale- 
rose  tints  of  the  oval  face  of  this  Esther  sure  of  her 
Ahasuerus.  The  name  is  whispered  around.  All  Paris 
knows  her,  and  for  three  months  nothing  else  has  been 
talked  about  but  her  amours  and  luxurious  style.  The 
splendors  of  her  hotel  in  the  Avenue  Messina  bring  to 


AT   THE  ACADEMY.  215 

mind  the  finest  establishment  in  the  time  of  the  Em- 
pire. 

The  newspapers  have  given  the  details  of  this  society 
scandal,  the  height  of  her  stables,  the  cost  of  the  paint- 
ings in  her  dining-room,  the  number  of  her  carriages, 
and  the  disappearance  of  her  husband,  who,  more  honest 
than  another  celebrated  Menelaus,  did  not  wish  to  survive 
his  dishonor,  and  went  abroad  to  grieve  as  a  deceived 
husband  of  the  great  century.  It  is  only  the  lover's 
name  that  is  left  in  blank.  At  the  theatre  the  lady  is 
always  alone  in  the  first  row  of  the  proscenium-boxes, 
escorted  by  a  pair  of  delicate  mustaches  faintly  seen  in 
the  dim  light.  At  the  races  and  in  the  Bois  she  is  also 
alone,  the  empty  place  beside  her  in  the  carriage  being 
filled  by  a  very  large  bouquet,  and  having  on  its  panels, 
around  a  mysterious  coat-of-arms,  the  simple  motto,  newly 
painted,  —  Mon  droit,  mon  roy,  —  which  her  lover  has 
just  given  her  with  the  title  of  countess. 

This  time  the  favorite  is  consecrated.  Having  placed 
her  here  on  such  a  day  among  the  seats  of  honor  re- 
served for  royalty,  and  given  her  for  an  escort  VVattelet, 
Christian's  liegeman,  and  Prince  d'Axel,  who  is  always 
ready  when  there  is  any  compromising  folly,  is  marking  her 
publicly  with  the  arms  of  lUyria.  And  yet  her  presence 
excites  no  feeling  of  indignation.  There  are  all  kinds 
of  immunities  for  kings,  whose  pleasures  are  as  sacred 
as  their  persons,  especially  in  this  aristocratic  world 
where  the  tradition  has  been  preserved  of  the  mistresses 
of  Louis  XIV.  or  Louis  XV.  entering  the  queen's  car- 
riage, or  supplanting  her  at  the  hunt. 

Minxes  like  Colette  de  Rosen  put  on  prudish  airs, 
and  wonder  that  the  Institute  receives  such  creatures. 
But  be  sure  that  each  one  of  these  ladies  must  have  at 


2l6  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

home  a  pretty  little  ouistiti  dying  of  consumption.  In 
reality  the  impression  is  excellent.  The  clubs  say,  "  Very 
swell ;  "  and  the  journalists,  "  It  is  bold."  They  smile 
good-naturedly ;  and  the  immortals  themselves  look  com- 
placently through  their  lorgnette  at  the  adorable  girl  who 
leans  over  the  edge  of  her  box  without  affectation,  hav- 
ing in  her  velvety  eyes  only  that  intentional  fixed  look  of 
women  besieged  by  the  attention  of  lorgnettes. 

People  turn  to  the  Queen  of  Illyria  to  see  how  she 
takes  it.  Oh,  very  well !  Not  a  feature  of  her  face, 
not  a  feather  on  her  hat,  has  moved.  Never  mingling  in 
the  entertainments  of  the  day,  Frt^d^rique  cannot  be 
acquainted  with  this  woman.  She  has  never  seen  her, 
and  only  glances  at  her  at  first  as  one  well-dressed  woman 
looks  at  another.  "  Who  is  it?  "  she  asks  the  Queen  of 
Palermo,  who  quickly  answers,  "  I  do  not  know."  But, 
in  a  neighboring  box,  a  name  spoken  very  loud,  and  re- 
peated several  times,  strikes  her  to  the  heart :  "  Spalato, 
—  the  Countess  of  Spalato." 

For  several  months  this  name  of  Spalato  has  haunted 
her  like  a  bad  dream.  She  knows  that  it  is  borne  by  a 
new  mistress  of  Christian,  who  only  remembers  that  he 
was  a  king  to  bestow  one  of  the  greatest  titles  of  the 
absent  country  on  the  creature  of  his  pleasure.  That 
acquainted  her  with  his  treachery  among  a  thousand 
other  things ;  but  this  fills  the  measure  to  overflowing. 
There,  opposite  her  and  the  royal  child,  was  this  woman 
raised  to  the  rank  of  a  queen.  What  an  outrage  !  And, 
although  Fr^derique  is  unaware  of  it,  the  serious,  delicate 
beauty  of  the  creature  makes  her  feel  it  more  keenly. 
Defiance  is  manifest  in  those  beautiful  eyes,  the  brow  is 
boldly  insolent,  and  the  radiant  expression  of  the  mouth 
braves  her.     Then  a  thousand  thoughts  torture  her  mind, 


AT  THE  ACADEMY.  217 

—  their  great  privations;  the  daily  humihations.  Even 
yesterday  it  was  the  carriage-maker  who  shouted  under 
her  windows,  and  whom  Rosen  paid ;  for  it  had  come  to 
that.  Where  does  Christian  get  the  money  that  he  gives 
to  this  woman?  Since  the  fraud  in  regard  to  the  false 
stones,  she  knows  what  he  is  capable  of;  and  something 
tells  her  that  this  Spalato  will  be  the  dishonor  of  the  king 
and  of  the  race.  For  a  moment,  a  second,  the  temptation 
passes  over  this  violent  nature  to  rise  and  leave,  taking  her 
child  with  her,  and  rush  from  this  infamous  neighbor  and 
degrading  rival :  but  she  remembers  that  she  is  a  queen, 
a  woman,  and  the  daughter  of  a  king,  and  that  Zara  will 
be  a  king  also ;  and  she  does  not  wish  to  give  their  ene- 
mies the  joy  of  such  a  scandal.  A  dignity  higher  than  her 
dignity  as  a  wife,  and  which  in  despair  she  has  made  the 
proud  rule  of  her  life,  constrains  her  to  maintain  her  rank 
here  in  public,  as  in  the  privacy  of  her  desecrated  home. 
O  cruel  destiny  of  the  queens  one  envies  !  The  effort 
that  she  makes  is  so  violent,  that  tears  are  about  to  fall 
from  her  eyes  as  the  calm  water  of  a  pond  leaps  up  under 
the  stroke  of  an  oar.  That  no  one  may  see  her,  she 
quickly  siezes  her  lorgnette,  and  looks  obstinately  and 
fixedly  through  the  moist  glasses  at  the  gilded  inscription 
above  the  head  of  the  orator,  —  "  Letters,  Sciences,  Arts," 

—  which  is  magnified  by  her  tears. 

The  noble  Fitz  Roy  continues  his  reading.  As  color- 
less as  a  prison-coat  was  the  pompous  eulogy  of  the 
"  Memorial,"  this  book  of  eloquent  history  of  cruel  deeds 
written  by  the  young  Prince  Herbert  de  Rosen,  "  who 
uses  the  pen  as  he  does  the  sword ; "  a  eulogy  more 
than  all  of  the  hero  who  inspired  it,  "  this  chivalrous 
Christian  II.,  in  whom  are  united  the  grace,  nobility, 
strength,  and  the  charming  graciousness  to  be  found  only 
on  the  throne."     (Applause  and  cries  of  delight.) 


2i8  KINGS  IN  F.X/LE. 

It  is  a  kind  public  decidedly  quick  to  feel,  and  easily 
kindled,  grasping  at  once  and  applying  the  most  fleeting 
allusions.  Sometimes  in  the  middle  of  these  cottony 
periods  there  was  a  true,  striking-note,  —  a  quotation  from 
the  "  Memorial,"  for  which  the  queen  furnished  all  the 
documents,  everywhere  substituting  the  king's  name  for 
her  own,  and  keeping  in  the  background  for  his  benefit. 
O  God  of  justice  !  this  was  how  he  rewarded  her.  The 
crowd  bows  at  the  passages  relating  deeds  of  confident, 
reckless  bravery,  and  heroic  acts  very  simply  accom- 
plished, framed  by  the  writer  in  a  prose  full  of  imagery, 
from  which  they  stand  out  like  epic  narratives  of  ancient 
times ;  and,  upon  the  enthusiastic  reception  accorded 
these  references,  the  noble  Fitz  Roy,  who  is  not  a 
fool,  renounces  his  literature,  and  contents  himself  with 
turning  over  the  book  to  the  finest  parts.  It  is  so  exhila- 
rating, that  the  audience  felt  as  if  buoyed  on  wings  in 
this  narrow,  classical  building,  whose  walls  seem  to  ex- 
pand, while  a  fi*esh  breeze  from  without  enters  the 
uplifted  cupola.  People  breathe  freely,  and  fans  no 
longer  move  in  harmony  with  their  restlessness.  No  :  all 
are  on  their  feet.  Every  head  is  raised  to  Fr^d^rique's 
box.  They  applaud  and  salute  the  conquered  but  glori- 
ous monarchy  in  the  wife  and  son  of  Christian  IL,  the  last 
king  and  last  chevalier. 

Little  Zara,  whom  noise  and  bravos  excite  as  they  do 
all  children,  applauds  innocently,  brushing  away  his  fair 
curls  with  his  little  gloved  hands  ;  while  the  queen  draws 
back  a  little,  being  overpowered  by  this  contagious  enthu- 
siasm, and  tasting  the  momentary  joy  and  illusion  that  it 
gives.  Thus  she  has  succeeded  in  surrounding  with  an 
aureole  this  phantom  of  a  king  behind  which  she  conceals 
herself,  and  gilding  with  new  brightness  this  crown  of 


AT  THE  ACADEMY,  2I9 

Illyria  which  her  son  must  wear  some  day,  —  a  brightness 
with  which  one  could  never  traffic.  Then  what  should 
matter  exile,  betrayal,  want  ?  There  are  dazzling  moments 
which  dispel  all  the  shadows  around.  She  turns  round 
quickly,  that  her  joy  may  be  a  homage  to  him  who,  seated 
near  her,  with  his  head  leaning  against  the  wall  and  his 
rapt  gaze  lifted  to  the  cupola,  listens  to  these  magical 
phrases,  forgetting  they  are  his  own,  and  witnesses  this 
triumph  without  regret  or  bitterness,  without  saying  to 
himself  for  a  single  moment  that  all  this  glory  has  been 
stolen  from  him.  Like  those  monks  of  the  middle  ages 
who  grew  old  in  building  little-known  cathedrals,  the 
son  of  the  villager  contents  himself  with  having  done  his 
work,  and  seeing  it  stand  firmly  in  the  broad  sunlight. 
And  for  the  self-sacrifice,  the  unconsciousness  of  his 
radiant  smile,  —  for  what  of  her  o\vn  nature  she  perceives 
in  him,  —  the  queen  holds  out  her  hand  to  him  with  a 
gentle  "  Thank  you  !  thank  you  ! "  Rosen,  who  is 
nearer,  believes  they  are  congratulating  him  on  his  son's 
success.  He  perceives  the  queen's  hasty,  grateful  pan- 
tomime, and  touches  his  rough  mustache  to  the  royal 
glove  ;  and  the  two  happy  victims  of  ihefete  were  forced 
to  exchange  from  a  distance,  in  one  look,  those  unex- 
pressed thoughts  which  bind  souls  together  in  mysterious 
and  lasting  ties. 

The  meeting  is  over.  The  noble  Fitz  Roy,  applauded 
and  complimented,  has  disappeared  as  if  through  a  trap- 
door ;  the  Letters,  Sciences,  Arts,  have  followed  him, 
leaving  the  desk  empty ;  and,  through  all  the  passages, 
the  crowd,  hurrying  along,  begin  to  exchange  the  remarks 
one  hears  on  the  breaking-up  of  an  assembly,  or  when 
leaving  a  theatre,  and  which  to-morrow  will  be  the  opinion 
of  all  Paris,  Among  these  good  people  who  are  leaving, 
15 


2  20  A'/.YGS  IN  EXILE. 

many,  pursuing  the  line  of  thought  which  has  diverted 
their  minds  at  the  reading,  expected  to  find  chair-bearers 
before  the  Institute,  but  found  awaiting  them  there  the 
rain,  with  its  heavy  patter  sounding  above  the  noise  of 
omnibuses,  and  the  carnival  din  of  steam-cars. 

Only  privileged  ones,  in  the  safety  of  their  own  car- 
riages, will  continue  to  lull  themselves  with  the  sweet 
monarchical  illusion. 

Under  the  slender-columned  porch,  while  a  crier  is 
calling  the  royal  carriages  in  the  wet  and  glistening 
court,  it  is  a  pleasure  to  hear  this  aristocratic  society 
chatter  with  the  greatest  animation  while  waiting  for  their 
majesties  to  come  out :  "  What  a  meeting !  What  a 
success  !  If  the  Republic  should  be  replaced  ! "  The 
Princess  de  Rosen  is  almost  surrounded.  "  You  must  be 
very  happy,"  all  say  to  her.  "  Oh,  yes  !  very  happy,"  she 
responds  beamingly,  looking  very  pretty,  and  frisking 
about,  and  bowing  to  the  right  and  left,  like  a  little  pony 
at  a  menagerie. 

Her  uncle  by  her  side  is  very  expansive,  although  very 
much  embarrassed  by  his  white  cravat  and  his  maitre 
<f'-^^/^/ shirt-front,  which  he  tries  to  hide  behind  his  hat, 
but  feeling  very  proud  all  the  same  of  his  nephew's  suc- 
cess. Certainly  he  knows  better  than  any  one  what  to 
think  of  the  character  of  this  success,  and  that  Prince 
Herbert  has  not  written  a  word  of  the  crowned  work ;  but 
at  this  moment  he  does  not  think  of  it,  nor  does  Colette, 
I  assure  you.  A  true  Sauvadon  in  her  vanity,  appear- 
ances suffice  with  her ;  and  when  she  sees  the  waxed  ends 
of  the  great  mustache  of  her  Herbert,  who  has  come  to 
meet  her,  sticking  out  among  a  crowd  of  swells  who 
are  congratulating  her,  she  is  so  convinced  that  it  was  he 
who  besieged  Ragusa,  and  wrote  the  "  Memorial,"  and 


AT  THE   ACADEMY.  221 

that  his  beautiful  mustache  does  not  conceal  the  lips  of  a 
fool,  that  she  is  obliged  to  restrain  herself,  lest  there 
before  every  one  she  throw  herself  on  his  neck.  And 
although  the  good  fellow  is  delighted  and  confused  at  the 
ovations,  and  the  glances  he  is  favored  with,  —  the  noble 
Fitz  Roy  having  just  said  to  him  solemnly,  "  When  you 
wish.  Prince,  you  shall  be  one  of  us,"  —  nothing  is  more 
precious  to  him  than  the  unexpected  reception  of  his 
Colette,  and  the  almost  loving  abandon  with  which  she 
leans  on  his  arm,  which  has  not  happened  to  him  since 
their  wedding-day,  when  they  walked  out  from  the  Church 
of  Saint  Thomas  d'Aquin  to  the  joyful  peals  of  the  organ. 
But  the  crowd  moves  aside,  and  all  take  off  their  hats 
respectfully.  The  guests  in  the  boxes  descend,  —  all  the 
fallen  majesties  who  are  returning  to  their  shade  after  a 
few  hours'  resurrection.  They  formed  a  true  procession  of 
royal  ghosts,  —  the  old  blind  man  leaning  on  his  daughter, 
and  the  Galician  with  her  handsome  nephew.  A  rus- 
tling of  stiff  stuffs  was  heard  as  on  the  passage  of  a  Madon- 
na of  Peru.  Finally  came  Queen  Frederique  with  her 
cousin  and  her  son.  The  landau  approaches  the  porch ; 
and  proudly  holding  up  her  handsome,  radiant  face,  she 
enters  it  amid  a  restrained  murmur  of  admiration.  The 
morganatic  queen  of  the  private  stairway  left  before  the 
close  with  d'Axel  and  Wattelet,  so  that  nothing  disturbs 
the  glory  of  her  departure.  Now  there  is  nothing  more 
for  people  to  talk  of  to  each  other,  or  to  see.  The  tall 
valets  hurry  along  with  their  umbrellas.  For  an  hour 
there  is  a  stamping  of  horses,  a  rolling  of  carriages,  a 
closing  of  carriage-doors,  mingled  with  the  streaming  of 
water,  and  echoes  from  the  stone  walls  of  names  as  they 
are  being  called,  —  echoes  which  haunt  old  buildings,  but 
are  not  often  awakened  in  the  French  Academy. 


22  2  K/NGS  IN  EXILE. 

This  evening  the  coquettish  allegories  of  Boucher, 
painted  on  the  panels  of  Ilerbert's  chamber  at  Hotel 
Rosen,  are  roused  from  their  languid  poses,  and  their 
faded  flesh-tints  revive  at  hearing  a  little  voice  warble,  — 

"  It  is  I :  it  is  Colette." 

It  was  Colette,  enveloped  in  a  night-wrapper  with 
floating  Mechlin  lace,  who  had  come  to  say  good-night 
to  her  hero,  her  knight,  her  man  of  genius. 

Almost  at  the  same  time  Elys^e  was  walking  alone  in 
the  garden  in  the  Rue  Herbillon,  under  the  light  foliage 
of  the  trees,  through  which  gleamed  a  luminous,  storm- 
swept  sky,  —  one  of  those  skies  of  June,  where  lingers  a 
circle  of  light  of  the  long  days,  sharply  defining  the 
shadows  on  the  dusky  turn  of  the  paths,  and  making  the 
house,  with  its  closed  blinds,  stand  out  white  and  dead. 
No  light  was  seen  but  the  king's  lamp  in  the  upper  story. 
There  was  not  a  sound  save  the  trickling  of  water  in  the 
basins  of  the  fountain,  and  the  distant  trill  of  a  nightin- 
gale, to  which  other  nightingales  responded,  floating 
through  an  air  filled  with  the  penetrating  fragrance, 
exhaled  by  the  rain,  of  magnolias,  roses,  and  mint.  The 
fever,  which  for  two  months  —  ever  since  the  fete  at 
Vincennes  —  had  not  left  Elysee,  and  which  burned  on 
his  forehead  and  hands,  instead  of  growing  calm  in  this 
burst  of  perfumes  and  song,  throbbed  and  thrilled  within 
him,  sending  its  glowing  waves  to  his  heart. 

"Ah,  old  fool !  old  fool !"  said  a  voice  near  him,  from 
under  the  hedge.  He  stopped,  abashed  :  it  was  so  true, 
so  just,  and  what  he  had  been  telling  himself  for  an 
hour. 

"  Fool !  miserable  maniac  !  You  ought  to  be  thrown 
into  the  fire,  —  you  and  your  herbarium." 

"  Is  it  you,  Councillor?  " 


AT  THE  ACADEMY.  223 

"  Don't  call  me  '  Councillor.'  I  am  one  no  longer. 
Nothing,  nothing  now ;  neither  honor  nor  intelligence. 
Ah  !  porco."  And  Boscovich,  sobbing  with  real  Italian 
passion,  shook  his  comical  head,  which  had  a  strange, 
weird  look  in  the  glow  of  light  which  fell  on  it  through 
the  linden-trees.  The  poor  man  had  been  a  little  out  for 
some  time.  At  one  moment  he  would  be  very  gay  and 
talkative,  and  bore  every  one  about  his  herbarium,  —  his 
famous  herbarium  at  Laybach,  —  which  he  would  soon 
get  possession  of,  he  would  say ;  then  all  at  once,  in  the 
midst  of  this  delirium  of  words,  he  interrupted  himself, 
looked  at  you  from  under  his  eyes,  and  you  could  not 
get  another  word  out  of  him.  This  time  Elys^e  thought 
he  was  becoming  really  mad,  when,  after  this  childish 
outburst,  he  sprang  towards  him,  and  seized  his  arm, 
crying  out  in  the  darkness,  as  one  calls  for  help,  — 
"  It  is  impossible,  M^raut !  it  must  be  prevented." 
"What  prevented,  Councillor?"  said  the  other,  trying 
to  disengage  his  arm  from  his  nervous  clasp. 

Boscovich  answered  in  a  low  voice,  breathlessly,  — 
"  The  act  of  renunciation  is  ready,  drawm  up  by  me. 
At  this  very  moment  his  Majesty  is  signing  it.  I  never 
ought  —  But  then  he  is  the  king,  and  there  is  my  her- 
barium at  Laybach  that  he  promised  to  restore  to  me. 
Magnificent  pieces  "  — 

The  monomaniac  was  let  loose  ;  but  Elysee  did  not 
listen  to  him,  stunned  by  this  terrible  blow.  His  first  and 
only  thought  was  for  the  queen.  This,  then,  was  the 
price  of  her  devotion  and  self-denial,  —  the  end  of  this 
day  of  sacrifice  !  How  faded  the  glory  which  they  wove 
around  a  brow  which  no  longer  wished  a  crown ! 
In  the  garden,  which  had  quickly  become  dark,  he 
saw  nothing   but  that  light  above  shining  on  a  myste- 


2  24  AV.VGS  FN  EXILE. 

rious  crime.  What  could  be  done?  How  could  it  be 
prevented?  By  the  queen  alone.  But  how  could  he 
reach  her?  The  fact  is,  that  the  chambermaid,  Madame 
de  Silvis  lost  in  her  fairy  dreams,  the  queen  herself, 
every  one,  believed  that  a  fire  was  suddenly  threaten- 
ing the  slumbering  hotel  when  Elyse'e  asked  to  speak 
to  her  Majesty.  From  the  chambers  came  a  chirp- 
ing of  women  flurrying  around  as  if  a  bird-cage  had 
been  awakened  at  an  untimely  hour.  At  last  Fr^d^rique 
appeared  in  the  little  salon  where  the  tutor  was  waiting 
for  her.  She  was  enveloped  in  a  long  blue  wrapper, 
which  moulded  her  charming  arms  and  shoulders. 
Never  had  Elys^e  felt  so  near  to  the  woman. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  she  quickly  asked,  in  a  low 
voice,  and  with  that  quivering  of  the  eyelids  which  waits 
for  the  first  blow  one  sees  approaching.  At  the  first 
word  she  sprang  forward,  exclaiming,  — 

"That  cannot  be  !  That  shall  not  be  while  I  am 
alive  ! " 

The  violence  of  her  movements  shook  down  the 
phosphorescent  tresses  of  her  hair ;  and,  in  fastening  them 
up  with  a  turn  of  the  hand,  her  motion  was  so  tragic  and 
free,  that  it  caused  her  sleeve  to  slip  up  to  her  elbow. 

"Awaken  his  Highness,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice,  in 
the  dim  light  of  the  luxurious  room  adjoining ;  then, 
without  adding  a  word,  she  ascended  to  the  king's  room. 


A  HOME  SCENE.  225 


CHAPTER   X. 

A   HOME  SCENE. 

All  the  charm  of  this  June  night  entered  through  an 
open  window  of  the  large  hall,  where  a  single  lighted 
candelabra  left  it  sufficiently  obscure  for  the  moon- 
light to  fall  on  the  walls  like  a  milky  way,  light  up 
the  polished  bar  of  a  trapezium,  the  arched  bow  of 
a  suspended  guzla,  and  the  glass  panes  of  a  rather 
poorly  furnished  bookcase,  which  the  pigeon-holes  of 
Boscovich  helped  to  fill,  exhaling  the  dead  odor  of 
a  cemetery  of  dried  leaves.  On  a  bundle  of  dusty 
papers  on  the  table,  a  tarnished  silver  figure  of  Christ 
was  lying;  for,  though  Christian  11.  wrote  but  little, 
he  remembered  his  Catholic  education,  and  sur- 
rounded himself  with  pious  objects ;  and  sometimes, 
while  sunk  in  dissipation,  in  the  din  and  excitement  of 
festive  hours,  with  a  hand  already  limp  with  intoxication, 
he  felt  of  the  coral  rosary  in  his  pocket,  which  never  left 
him.  By  the  side  of  the  figure  of  Christ  lay  a  large, 
heavy  sheet  of  parchment,  covered  with  a  coarse,  rather 
unsteady  handwriting.  It  was  the  prepared  act  of  renun- 
ciation of  royalty.  It  lacked  only  the  signature  and  a 
stroke  of  the  pen ;  but  this  required  a  strong  act  of  the 
will,  and  that  was  why  Christian  II.  delayed,  sitting  mo- 
tionless under  the  light  of  tapers  prepared  for  the  royal 
seal,  and  leaning  his  elbows  on  the  table. 

Near  him,  anxious,  prying,  and  noiseless  as  a  sphinx  of 


226  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

night,  or  the  black  swallow  that  flits  around  ruins,  Lebeau, 
the  confidential  valet,  watched  him,  and  silently  excited 
him  to  the  deed,  having  finally  reached  that  decisive  mo- 
ment for  which  the  coterie  had  been  waiting  for  months, 
passing  through  ups  and  downs,  heart-beats,  and  all  the 
uncertainties  of  a  game  in  the  hands  of  this  rag  of  a 
king.  Notwithstanding  the  magnetism  of  the  overpower- 
ing desire,  Christian,  though  holding  the  pen  in  his  fin- 
gers, did  not  sign.  Buried  in  his  arm-chair,  he  was 
looking  at  the  parchment,  and  dreaming.  It  was  not 
that  he  would  hold  on  to  this  crown,  which  he  never 
desired  or  loved,  and  which,  as  a  child,  he  felt  too  heavy, 
and  whose  irksome  responsibilities  he  felt  in  after  life. 
To  free  himself  from  it,  place  it  in  a  comer  of  the  salon 
which  he  never  entered,  and  to  forget  it  when  out  of 
doors  as  much  as  possible,  he  had  already  succeeded  in 
doing.  But  the  decision  now  to  be  made,  and  this  ex- 
traordinary measure,  frightened  him ;  yet  there  was  no 
other  way  of  procuring  the  money  that  was  indispen- 
sable to  his  new  life,  there  being  notes  for  three  millions 
signed  by  him  which  would  soon  come  due,  and  which 
the  usurer,  a  certain  Pichery,  a  picture-dealer,  did  not 
wish  to  renew.  Could  he  allow  every  thing  to  be  seized 
at  Saint  Mande?  What  then  would  become  of  the 
queen  and  the  royal  child?  There  would  be  scene  after 
scene ;  for  he  plainly  foresaw  the  frightful  results  of  his 
cowardice.  Would  it  not  be  better  to  have  done  with  it 
at  once,  and  brave  anger  and  recrimination  with  one 
stroke  ?  And  then  —  and  then  —  all  this  was  not  the  de- 
termining reason. 

He  had  promised  the  countess  to  sign  this  renuncia- 
tion ;  and  upon  this  promise  Sephora  consented  to  let 
her  husband  go  to  London  alone,  and  accepted  the  hotel 


A   HOME  SCENE.  227 

in  Messina  Avenue,  and  the  title  and  name  which  bound 
her  to  Christian's  arm ;  reserving  all  else  for  the  day 
when  the  king  himself  would  bring  the  act  signed  by  his 
own  hand.  She  gave  such  reasons  for  this  as  a  loving 
girl  would,  —  perhaps  later  he  might  wish  to  return  to 
lUyria,  and  abandon  her  for  the  throne  and  power :  she 
would  not  be  the  first  whom  terrible  state  reasons  had 
caused  to  tremble  and  weep.  And  d'Axel,  Wattelet,  and 
all  the  swells  in  the  Royal  Club,  little  suspected,  when 
the  king,  on  coming  out  of  Messina  Avenue,  joined  them 
at  the  club,  that  he  had  passed  the  evening  constantly  re- 
pulsed and  encouraged,  quivering  and  strained  as  a  bow, 
and  held  at  the  feet  of  this  woman  of  implacable  will 
and  supple  resistance,  who  left  in  his  ardent  grasp  the 
icy,  cold  little  hands  of  a  Parisian  who  was  skilful  in 
freeing  them  and  defending  herself,  while  on  her  lips 
burned  the  maddening  words,  — 

"  Oh,  when  you  are  no  longer  a  king,  I  will  be  yours, 
wholly  yours  ! "  She  made  him  pass  through  the  danger- 
ous alternations  of  passion  and  repulse ;  and  sometimes 
at  the  theatre,  after  an  advance  chilled  by  her  cold  smile, 
she  would  slowly  lay  aside  her  gloves,  and  look  fixedly 
at  him,  and  then,  partly  yielding,  would  give  her  bare 
hand  as  a  first  offering  to  his  kisses. 

"Then,  my  poor  Lebeau,  you  say  that  this  Pichery 
will  do  nothing." 

"Nothing,  sire.  If  the  payment  is  not  made,  the 
notes  will  go  to  protest." 

One  should  have  heard  the  despairing  gasp  which 
emphasized  this  word  "protest"  to  understand  all  the 
gloomy  formalities  it  entailed,  —  stamped  paper,  the 
royal  house  taken  possession  of,  profaned,  and  he  him- 
self turned  into  the  street.     Christian  did   not  see   this 


228  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

himself:  he  was  dreaming,  and,  having  arrived  at  Sepho- 
ra's  in  the  middle  of  the  night  anxious  and  shudder- 
ing, stealthily  mounted  the  staircase  that  was  mysteriously 
draped,  and  entered  the  room  where  the  night-lamp 
faintly  glimmered  through  the  lace-shade. 

"  It  is  done  !  I  am  no  longer  a  king  !  Mine,  wholly 
mine  !  "     And  the  fair  one  yielded. 

"  Come  ! "  said  he  with  a  start  as  his  vision  vanished. 
Then  he  signed. 

The  door  opened,  and  the  queen  appeared.  Her 
presence  in  Christian's  room  at  this  hour  was  so  new  and 
unforeseen,  and  they  had  lived  apart  so  long,  that  neither 
the  king  who  was  about  to  sign  his  infamy,  nor  Lebeau 
who  watched  him,  turned  round  at  the  slight  sound. 
They  thought  it  was  Boscovich  coming  in  from  the  gar- 
den. Gliding  along  like  a  shadow,  Fr^d^rique  had  ahready 
reached  the  table  and  the  two  accomplices,  when  Lebeau 
perceived  her.  Placing  her  finger  on  her  lips,  as  a  sign 
for  him  to  be  silent,  she  continued  to  advance,  wishing 
to  catch  the  king  in  the  very  act  of  betrayal,  and  to  pre- 
vent his  excuses,  subterfuges,  and  useless  dissimulation ; 
but  the  valet  braved  her  forbidding  gesture  by  giving  an 
alarm  a  la  d'Assas  :  — 

"The  queen,  sire  !" 

Furious,  the  Dalmatian  struck  the  cheek  of  this  vicious 
brute  with  the  palm  of  her  hand,  which  was  hard  and  firm 
firom  horseback-riding,  and  drew  herself  up,  waiting  till 
the  wretch  disappeared  before  addressing  the  king. 

"What  has  happened  to  you,  my  dear  Fr^d^rique? 
and  who  wishes  me? " 

Standing,  leaning  backward  against  the  table  which"  he 
tried  to  conceal  behind  him,  in  an  easy  pose,  which  dis- 
played his  foulard  vest  embroidered  with  pink,  he  smiled, 


A    HOME  SCENE.  229 

though  his  lips  were  rather  pale.  His  voice,  however, 
was  calm,  and  his  speech  fluent ;  and  he  still  possessed 
that  graceful  politeness  which  never  forsook  him  in  his 
wife's  presence,  and  which  formed  between  them  some- 
thing like  the  flowery,  complicated  arabesques  on  the 
hard,  lacquered  surface  of  a  screen.  With  one  word  and 
motion  of  her  hand  she  removed  the  barrier  behind 
which  he  sheltered  himself :  — 

"  Oh,  no  speeches  !  no  grimaces  !  I  know  what  you 
were  writing  there  !     Do  not  try  to  lie  to  me." 

Then  approaching  him,  her  haughty  figure  towering 
above  his  in  his  timid  abasement,  she  said,  using  "  thou  " 
in  addressing  him,  which,  as  it  was  unusual  with  her, 
made  her  words  serious,  and  almost  solemn,  — 

"  Listen,  Christian  !  You  have  made  me  suffer  much 
since  I  became  your  wife.  I  have  only  spoken  of  this 
once,  you  remember.  When  I  saw  that  you  no  longer 
loved  me,  I  ceased  ;  but  I  was  ignorant  of  nothing,  —  not 
of  one  of  your  acts  of  treachery  and  folly.  You  must  be 
really  mad,  —  mad  as  your  father  who  wore  himself  out 
with  love  for  Lola ;  mad  as  your  grandfather  Jean,  who 
died  mad  in  a  shameful  delirium,  foaming  and  kissing  in 
his  gasps,  and  uttering  words  that  made  the  sisters  who  had 
charge  of  him  turn  pale.  Ah  !  it  is  the  same  hot  blood, 
the  same  fire  of  hell,  which  devours  you.  At  Ragusa, 
when  you  were  away  nights,  they  sought  you  at  Foedor's 
house.  I  knew  it,  and  I  knew  that  she  left  her  theatre  to 
follow  you ;  but  I  made  no  reproaches  :  the  honor  of 
your  name  was  safe.  When  the  king  was  missing  on  the 
ramparts,  I  took  care  that  his  place  was  not  vacant.  But 
at  Paris,  at  Paris  !  " 

Till  now  she  had  spoken  slowly  and  coldly,  her  voice 
falling  at  the  end  of  each  sentence  in  a  tone  of  pity  and 


230  ir/NGS  IN  EXILE. 

maternal  reproof,  inspired  by  the  king's  downcast  eyes,  and 
by  his  pouting  face  like  that  of  a  vicious  child  whom  one 
lectures.  But  the  word  "  Paris  "  put  her  beside  herself. 
A  city  without  faith,  —  a  mocking,  accursed  city,  with 
pavements  stained  with  blood,  and  always  raised  in  barri- 
cade and  held  by  the  mob  !  How  possessed  were  all  these 
poor,  fallen  kings,  to  take  refuge  in  this  Sodom,  where 
the  air  is  poisoned  by  massacre,  and  vices  which  destroy 
great  races  !  It  is  this  Sodom  which  made  Christian 
lose  what  the  maddest  of  his  ancestors  always  knew  how 
to  keep,  —  their  self-respect  and  pride  of  blood.  Ever 
since  the  day  of  their  arrival,  —  on  the  very  first  even- 
ing of  their  exile,  —  when  she  saw  him  so  gay  and  ex- 
cited, while  all  were  weeping  secretly,  Fr^d^rique  divined 
the  humiliation  and  shame  that  he  would  make  her 
endure.  Then  in  one  breath,  without  stopping,  and  with 
cutting  words  that  brought  mottled  red  spots  to  the  wan 
face  of  the  royal  libertine  and  streaked  it  as  with  the 
lash  of  a  whip,  she  reminded  him  of  all  his  faults,  —  of 
his  rapid  fall  from  pleasure  to  vice,  and  from  vice  to  the 
level  of  crime  :  — 

"You  have  deceived  me  before  my  very  eyes  in  my 
own  house.  You  have  been  an  adulterer,  sitting  by  my 
side  at  my  own  table ;  and,  when  you  tired  of  the  curly- 
headed  doll  who  could  not  even  conceal  her  tears,  you, 
in  your  idleness,  went  to  the  gutter  —  into  the  mud  of 
the  streets  —  to  boldly  wallow.  "The  next  day  after 
your  orgie,  all  covered  with  mire,  you  returned  in  bitter 
remorse. 

"  Do  you  remember  how  I  found  you  stammering  and 
stuttering  that  morning  when  you  lost  the  throne  for  the 
second  time  ?  What  have  you  not  done  ?  Holy  Mother 
of  the  Angels  !  what  have  you  not  done  ?  You  traded 
with  the  royal  seal ;  you  sold  crosses  and  titles." 


A   HOME  SCENE.  231 

And  in  a  lower  voice,  as  if  she  feared  the  silence  and 

the  night  might  hear  her,  she  continued,  — 

"  You  also  stole  !  you  stole  !  Those  diamonds  and 
stones  were  removed  by  you.  And  I  let  my  old  Grceb 
be  suspected,  and  sent  away.  I  had  to  do  it :  the  theft 
was  known  ;  and  we  were  forced  to  pretend  some  one  was 
guilty,  to  avoid  suspicion  of  the  true  thief.  My  constant 
anxiety  was  to  save  the  king ;  to  endure  and  accept  every 
thing,  even  the  shame  which  in  the  eyes  of  the  world 
would  end  by  disgracing  me.  To  excite  and  sustain 
myself  in  hours  of  trials,  I  made  '  For  the  crown  ! '  my 
watchword  of  combat.  And  now  you  wish  to  sell  the 
crown,  when  it  has  cost  me  such  anguish  and  so  many 
tears  !  you  wish  to  exchange  it  for  gold  with  that  dull- 
faced  Jewess  whom  you  had  the  impudence  to  bring 
before  me  face  to  face  to-day  ! " 

He  listened  with  downcast  look,  and  without  uttering 
a  word,  feeling  perfectly  dumbfounded,  till  the  insult  to 
her  whom  he  loved  made  him  spring  to  his  feet ;  and 
looking  at  the  queen  fixedly,  with  his  face  marked  with 
a  cross  as  from  the  blows  of  a  whip,  he  said  to  her,  still 
politely  but  very  firmly, — 

"  Well,  you  are  mistaken.  The  woman  you  speak  of 
has  nothing  to  do  with  the  resolution  I  have  made. 
What  I  am  doing  is  for  you  and  for  myself,  —  for  the 
happiness  and  peace  of  us  both.  Are  you  not  weary 
of  this  life  of  expedients  and  privations  ?  Do  you  think 
I  am  not  aware  of  what  passes  here  ?  that  I  do  not  suffer 
when  I  see  this  mob  of  tradespeople  and  creditors  at 
your  heels  ?  I  heard  that  man  in  the  court-yard  the  other 
day  when  I  was  entering.  If  it  had  not  been  for  Rosen, 
I  would  have  crushed  him  under  the  wheel  of  my  phae- 
ton.    And  you,  behind  the  curtain  of  your  room,  were 


232  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

watching  his  departure.  A  fine  business  for  a  queen  ! 
We  owe  every  one.  There  is  one  universal  cry  against 
us.  Half  of  your  people  are  kept  waiting  for  their 
wages ;  and  two  months  have  passed  since  the  tutor 
received  any  thing.  Madame  de  Silvis  pays  herself  by 
majestically  wearing  your  old  dresses.  And,  some  days 
ago,  the  councillor,  placed  in  charge  of  the  crown  seals, 
borrowed  of  my  valet-de-chambre  the  wherewithal  to  buy 
snuff.  You  see  that  I  am  informed  of  the  state  of  things. 
And  you  have  no  idea  how  many  debts  I  have.  I  am 
loaded  with  them.  There  will  be  a  crash  soon  :  it  is  in- 
evitable. And  you  will  see  your  diadem  sold  before  long, 
in  a  doorway,  with  old  dishes  and  knives." 

Gradually  led  on  by  his  mocking  nature  and  the  hoax- 
ing habits  of  his  circle,  he  dropped  the  reserved  tone 
he  used  at  first,  and  with  his  thin,  insolent,  nasal  voice, 
poured  forth  words  of  ridicule,  among  which  many  must 
have  been  of  Sephora's  invention,  who  never  lost  an 
occasion  to  overcome  with  her  satire  her  lover's  last 
scruples. 

"  You  accuse  me  of  making  speeches,  my  dear ;  but 
it  is  you  who  are  lavish  with  words.  After  all,  what  is 
this  crown  of  lUyria  you  are  always  talking  to  me  about  ? 
It  is  of  no  value  except  on  a  king's  head.  Besides,  it  is 
a  cumbersome,  useless  thing,  which  one  conceals  in  a 
flight  in  a  milliner's  box,  and  exhibits  under  a  globe,  like 
a  comedian's  laurels,  or  the  orange-blossoms  of  a  con- 
cierge. You  must  be  convinced  of  this,  Fr^d^rique. 
A  king  is  only  a  king  on  the  throne,  with  power  in  his 
hand  :  when  fallen,  he  is  less  than  nothing,  —  a  mere  rag. 
In  vain  we  adhere  to  etiquette  and  to  our  titles,  display- 
ing our  majesty  everywhere,  —  on  the  panels  of  carriages, 
and  on  our  sleeve-buttons  ;  encumbering  ourselves  with 


A   HOME  SCENE.  233 

old-fashioned  ceremony.  All  that  is  hypocrisy  on  our 
part,  and  politeness  and  pity  in  those  who  surround  us,  — 
our  friends  and  servitors.  I  am  King  Christian  II.  here 
to  you  and  Rosen,  and  a  few  faithful  ones;  but,  when 
away,  I  become  like  other  men,  —  Monsieur  Christian 
Second  ;  not  even  a  name,  —  nothing  but  a  first  name,  — 
simply  Christian,  like  a  mounteback  at  the  Gaiete." 

He  stopped,  out  of  breath,  never  remembering  having 
spoken  so  long  while  standing.  The  shrill  notes  of  the 
fern-owl  and  the  eager  trills  of  nightingales  pierced  the 
silence  of  the  night.  A  big  miller,  which  had  short- 
ened its  wings  in  the  light,  was  flitting  about,  hitting 
against  every  thing.  One  heard  its  flying  distress,  and 
the  stifled  sobs  of  the  queen,  who  could  hold  her  own 
against  anger  and  violence,  but  whom  mockery,  jarring 
against  her  sincere  nature,  found  defenceless,  like  a  val- 
iant soldier  who  expects  open  blows  and  feels  himself 
harassed  with  pricks.  Seeing  her  weak,  Christian  thought 
her  conquered,  and,  to  complete  his  work,  put  the  last 
touch  to  his  burlesque  picture  of  a  monarch  in  exile  :  — 

"  What  a  pitiful  figure  are  all  these  poor  sovereigns  in 
partibus  playing  at  royalty,  and  draping  themselves  with 
the  trumpery  of  their  first  roles,  and  continuing  to  declaim 
l^efore  empty  benches,  with  not  a  sou  in  the  way  of 
receipts  !  Would  they  not  do  better  to  keep  silent,  and 
retire  to  common  life  and  obscurity?  This  passion  for 
grandeur  is  a  luxury  which  does  very  well  for  those  who 
have  a  fortune.  But  think  of  those  who  have  not  one,  — 
our  poor  cousins  of  Palermo,  for  example,  with  their 
wretched  Italian  cooking,  and  crowded  into  a  house  too 
small  for  them,  where  it  always  smells  of  onions  when 
you  enter.  They  are  excellent  people  certainly  ;  but  what 
a  life   they  lead  !   and  yet  there  are  others  even  more 


234  KINGS  IN  EXff.E. 

unfortunate.  I'he  other  day  a  Bourbon  —  a  true  Bourbon 
—  was  running  after  an  omnibus.  People  shouted  to  him, 
'  Full,  sir  ! '  but  he  kept  running.  '  I  tell  you  it  is  full, 
my  poor  old  man  ! '  they  repeated.  He  got  angry  because 
they  did  not  address  him  as  'Your  Highness,'  as  if 
that  could  be  seen  in  one's  cravat !  We  are  like  kings  in 
the  opera,  I  tell  you,  my  dear ;  and  it  is  to  escape  from 
this  ridiculous  situation,  and  shield  ourselves  in  an  as- 
sured and  dignified  existence,  that  I  have  resolved  to  sign 
this." 

He  added,  suddenly  showing  the  crafty  Slavonian 
brought  up  by  Jesuits,  "  Remark,  besides,  that  this  signa- 
ture is  a  farce.  They  return  us  our  property  after  all ;  and 
I  consider  myself  by  no  means  pledged.  Who  knows? 
These  millions  will  perhaps  aid  us  in  regaining  the 
throne." 

The  queen  raised  her  head  impetuously,  and  for  a 
moment  looked  into  his  eyes  steadily  enough  to  make 
them  blink ;  then,  shrugging  her  shoulders,  said,  — 

"  Don't  make  yourself  any  viler  than  you  are.  You 
know  very  well  that  when  it  is  once  signed  —  But,  no  : 
the  truth  is,  that  the  strength  fails  you.  You  desert  your 
post  as  a  king  in  the  most  perilous  moment,  when  the 
new  society,  which  no  longer  wishes  God  or  master,  pur- 
suing the  representatives  of  divine  right  with  its  hate, 
makes  the  heavens  over  their  heads  and  the  ground 
under  their  feet  tremble  with  bombs,  balls,  and  the  knife. 
No  means  are  too  severe.  They  betray  and  assassinate, 
in  the  midst  of  a  procession  or  a  fete,  the  best  as  well  as 
the  worst.  There  is  not  one  of  us  who  does  not  tremble 
when  a  man  steps  out  from  the  crowd.  Every  petition 
covers  a  poignard.  When  coming  out  from  one's  palace, 
who  can  feel  sure  of  returning  to  it?  And  at  this  hour 
you  choose  to  leave  the  battle." 


A   HOME  SCENE.  235 

"  Ah,  if  it  were  only  a  matter  of  fighting  !  "  said  Chris- 
tian II.  quickly.  "  But  to  struggle,  as  we  do,  against 
ridicule  and  want,  and  to  feel  that  we  sink  deeper  into 
the  mire  every  day  !  " 

A  gleam  of  hope  lighted  Fr^d^rique's  eyes. 

"Is  it  true?  Would  you  fight?  Then  listen."  And 
she  told  him  breathlessly,  in  a  few  brief  words,  about  the 
expedition  which  Elys^e  and  she  had  been  preparing  for 
three  months,  sending  letter  after  letter,  addresses,  and 
despatches ;  while  Father  Alph^e  was  constantly  travel- 
ling through  the  villages  and  mountains.  For  this  time  it 
is  not  the  nobility  they  address,  but  the  common  people, 
—  the  muleteers  and  porters  of  Ragusa,  the  market-gar- 
deners of  Breno  and  Brazza,  and  the  people  from  the 
islands  who  come  to  market  in  feluccas,  —  the  primitive 
and  traditional  nation,  ready  to  rise  up  and  die  for  the 
king,  but  on  condition  of  seeing  him  at  their  head.  Com- 
panies were  forming,  and  the  watchword  was  already 
circulating  ;  and  they  only  awaited  a  signal.  The  queen, 
hurrying  out  her  words  in  a  vigorous  charge  to  conquer 
Christian's  weakness,  felt  a  pang  of  grief  on  seeing  him 
shake  his  head,  more  indifferent  even  than  discouraged. 
Perhaps  at  heart  there  was  added  the  pique  that  he  felt  at 
all  these  preparations  made  without  his  knowledge ;  but 
he  did  not  think  the  project  could  be  carried  out.  They 
could  not  advance  into  the  country  :  they  would  have  to 
get  possession  of  the  islands,  and  besiege  a  beautiful  region 
with  a  very  small  chance  of  success,  —  a  Duke  of  Palma 
adventure,  a  useless  shedding  of  blood. 

"  No  :  you  see,  my  dear,  the  fanaticism  of  your  chap- 
lain and  that  hot-headed  Gascon  misled  you.  I  have  my 
information  also,  and  it  is  more  rehable  than  yours.  The 
truth  is,  that  in  Dalmatia,  as  elsewhere,  monarchy  has  had 

13 


2^6  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

its  day.  I'hey  have  had  enough  of  it  there :  they  no 
longer  wish  it." 

"Ah  !  I  well  know  the  coward  who  wishes  no  more  of 
it,"  said  the  queen. 

Then  she  hastily  withdrew,  leaving  Christian  very  much 
astonished  that  the  scene  had  ended  so  soon.  He 
quickly  picked  up  the  act  of  renunciation,  and  put  it  in 
his  pocket ;  and  was  about  leaving,  when  Fredd'rique 
returned,  this  time  accompanied  by  the  little  prince. 

Taken  from  his  bed  while  fast  asleep,  and  dressed  in 
great  haste,  Zara,  who  had  just  passed  from  the  hands  of 
the  femme-de-chambre  into  those  of  the  queen  without 
a  word  being  uttered,  opened  his  large  eyes  under  his 
tawny  curls,  but  did  not  ask  a  question ;  for  the  confused 
memory  passed  through  his  still  dazed  little  head  of 
similar  awakenings  for  hasty  flights,  surrounded  by  pale 
faces  and  breathless  exclamations.  It  was  thus  that  he 
acquired  the  habit  of  abandoning  himself  to  the  guidance 
of  others,  provided  that  the  queen  called  him  in  her 
grave,  resolute  voice,  and  he  could  feel  the  tender  clasp 
of  her  arms,  and  her  shoulder  ready  for  him  to  lean  on 
in  his  childish  fatigue.  She  said  to  him,  "  Come  ! "  and 
he  came  with  confidence,  feeling  only  astonished  at  the 
quiet  around  him  after  other  nights  full  of  roaring  sounds 
and  lurid  sights,  with  the  glare  of  flames,  the  noise  of 
cannon  and  musketry. 

He  saw  the  king  standing  there,  —  not  the  pleasant, 
light-hearted  father  who  sometimes  surprised  him  in  bed, 
or  crossed  the  study-room  with  an  encouraging  smile,  — 
but  with  a  stem,  weary  face,  which  became  still  more  so  at 
their  entrance.  Fr^d^rique,  without  saying  a  word,  drew 
the  child  to  Christian's  feet,  and,  kneeling  with  a  sudden, 
quick  motion,  made  him  stand  before  her,  and  clasped 
his  little  fingers  between  her  hands,  saying,  — 


A  HOME  SCENE.  237 

"  The  king  will  not  listen  to  me.  He  will  listen  to  you, 
perhaps,  Zara.     Come  !  say  with  me,  ' My  father '"  — 

The  timid  voice  repeated,  — 

"My  father"  — 

"  My  father,  my  king  !  I  implore  you,  do  not  rob  your 
child.  Do  not  take  from  him  the  crown  he  must  wear 
some  day.  Remember  that  it  is  not  yours  alone  ;  that 
it  comes  from  afar,  from  on  high,  from  God,  who  sent  it 
to  the  house  of  Illyria  six  hundred  years  ago.  God 
wishes  that  I  should  be  a  king,  my  father.  It  is  my  in- 
heritance, my  property ;  and  you  have  no  right  to  take  it 
from  me." 

The  little  prince  followed  his  mother's  words  with  the 
supplicating  looks,  and  low,  fervent  tones  of  a  prayer : 
but  Christian  turned  away  his  head,  and  shrugged  his 
shoulders  ;  and,  furious,  though  still  polite,  muttered  a 
few  words  between  his  teeth  :  "  Highly  wrought-up,  un- 
becoming scene  !  Turn  the  head  of  that  child."  Then 
he  disengaged  himself,  and  went  to  the  door.  With  one 
bound  the  queen  sprang  to  her  feet,  looked  at  the  empty 
table  where  the  parchment  had  been  spread,  and,  under- 
standing that  the  infamous  act  had  been  signed,  that  he 
held  it,  fairly  screamed,  — 

"  Christian  ! " 

He  continued  to  walk  off. 

Fr^d^rique  took  one  step  forward,  and  made  a  motion 
as  if  to  gather  up  her  dress  to  follow  him ;  then  suddenly 
said,  — 

"  Well,  so  be  it." 

He  stopped,  seeing  her  stand  before  the  open  win- 
dow, with  her  foot  on  the  narrow  stone  balcony,  with 
one  arm  around  her  child,  about  to  seek  death ;  and  with 
the  other  threatening  the  coward  who  fled,  while  the 
moonhght  shone  in  on  the  charming  group. 


238  KINGS  fN  EXILE. 

"  A  king  of  comedy  and  a  queen  of  tragedy  ! "  she 
said  in  a  grave  and  terrible  voice.  "  If  you  do  not 
instantly  burn  what  you  have  just  signed,  and  take  an 
oath  on  the  cross  that  you  will  never  do  it  again,  your 
race  is  ended,  —  your  wife,  your  child  —  here,  from  this 
balcony  —  crushed  to  death." 

■And  her  words,  and  her  beautiful  body  leaning  over 
into  the  void,  expressed  such  an  impulse  to  leap,  that  the 
king,  terrified,  sprang  forward  to  hold  her  back. 

"  Fr^derique  ! " 

At  his  father's  cry,  at  the  trembling  of  the  arm  which 
bore  him,  the  child,  who  stood  entirely  outside  of  the 
window,  thought  it  was  over, — that  they  were  to  die.  He 
did  not  utter  a  word  or  a  complaint,  since  he  was  going 
with  his  mother :  only  his  little  hands  clung  around  the 
queen's  neck,  and  throwing  back  his  head,  from  which 
hung  down  his  hair  like  a  victim,  he  closed  his  beautiful 
eyes  to  their  frightful  fall.     It  was  so  high  ! 

Christian  no  longer  resisted.  Such  resignation  and 
courage  in  a  child-king,  who  already  knew  this  much  of 
his  future  lot,  —  how  to  die  bravely  !  The  sight  almost 
made  his  heart  break.  He  threw  the  act,  which  he  had 
been  crumpling  in  his  hand  a  moment,  on  the  table,  and 
fell  sobbing  into  an  arm-chair. 

Fred^rique,  still  mistrustful,  looked  the  paper  through 
from  the  first  line  to  the  signature ;  then  held  it  close  to 
a  taper,  and  let  it  burn  to  her  fingers ;  shook  off  the 
black  ashes  on  the  table,  and  left  the  room  to  put  her 
son  to  bed,  for  he  was  beginning  to  fall  asleep  m  his 
heroic  ^ose  of  a  suicide. 


MILITARY  PREPARATIONS.  239 


CHAPTER   XI. 

MILITARY    PREPARATIONS. 

A  DINNER  given  to  friends  in  the  parlor  of  the  old  bric- 
a-brac  establishment  was  drawing  to  its  close.  The  old 
man  Leemans,  when  alone,  breaks  a  crust  in  company 
with  Darnet  at  the  end  of  the  kitchen-table,  which  has 
neither  cloth  nor  napkin.  When  he  has  company,  as  on 
this  evening,  the  careful  Auvergnat  grumblingly  removes 
the  white  slip-covering,  carefully  stows  away  the  little 
mats,  and  arranges  the  table  opposite  "  Monsieur's " 
portrait,  in  the  room  that  is  quiet  and  neat  as  that  of  a 
curate,  and  which  is  pervaded  for  a  few  hours  with  odors 
of  a  ragoiU  flavored  with  onion,  and  very  excited  dis- 
cussions in  the  slang  they  use  when  talking  about  their 
dishonest  money  transactions.  Ever  since  the  "grand 
scheme  "  has  been  in  preparation,  these  dinners  at  the 
bric-a-brac  estabhshment  have  been  frequent.  It  is  well 
for  those  in  partnership  to  see  each  other  often,  and  to 
plan  together ;  and  in  no  other  way  could  they  do  it  so 
safely  as  at  the  end  of  this  little  out-of-the-way  Rue 
Eginhard,  which  belongs  to  the  past  of  ancient  Paris. 
Here  at  least  they  could  speak  aloud,  discuss,  and  plan  ; 
for  the  end  was  near.  In  a  few  days  —  indeed,  in  a  few 
hours  —  the  renunciation  would  be  signed  ;  and  the  af- 
fair, which  had  already  consumed  so  much  money,  would 
begin  to  bring  in  considerable.  The  certainty  of  success 
kindles  the  eyes  and  brightens  the  voices  of  the  guests 


240  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

with  golden  cheerfulness,  makes  the  table-cloth  whiter, 
and  the  wine  purer.  A  true  festive  dinner,  presided  over 
by  Father  Leemans  and  Pichery,  his  inseparable,  —  a 
wooden  head,  pomaded  a  la  Hongroise,  set  in  a  stiff 
stock,  with  a  bold  military  step,  and  the  aspect  of  a  dis- 
graced officer  :  profession,  picture-dealer  and  usurer,  —  a 
new  business,  complicated  and  very  appropriate  for  the 
art-mania  of  our  day.  When  the  son  of  a  family  is  hard 
up,  and  at  his  wits'  end,  he  goes  to  Pichery,  who  has  a 
sumptuous  store  in  the  Rue  Lafitte. 

"  Have  you  a  Corot,  —  a  chouette  Corot  ?  I  am  crazy 
over  that  painter." 

"  Ah  !  Corot !  "  said  Pichery,  in  ecstatic  admiration, 
closing  his  eyes,  which  were  like  those  of  a  dead  fish. 
Then,  all  at  once  changing  his  tone,  he  exclaimed,  "  I 
have  just  what  will  suit  you."  And,  on  a  tall  easel 
wheeled  opposite  him,  he  showed  a  very  pretty  Corot,  — 
a  morning  glimmering  in  silvery  mist,  with  nymphs  dan- 
cing under  the  willows.  The  dandy  puts  on  his  glass,  and 
pretends  to  admire  it. 

"  Swell !  very  swell !     How  much  is  it? " 

"  Fifty  thousand  francs,"  said  Pichery,  without  moving 
a  muscle.     The  other  does  not  move  a  muscle  either. 

"  For  three  months?  " 

"  Three  months,  with  security." 

The  dandy  gives  his  note,  carries  the  picture  home  or 
to  his  mistress,  and  for  a  whole  day  has  the  delight  of 
saying  at  the  club  and  on  the  boulevard  that  he  has 
just  bought  a  stunning  Corot.  The  next  day  he  sends 
his  Corot  to  the  auction-rooms,  where  Pichery  has  it 
bought  back  by  Leemans  at  ten  or  twelve  thousand 
francs,  its  true  price.  This  is  usury  at  an  exorbitant 
rate,  but  usury  secured  and  without  risk.     Pichery  him- 


MILITARY  PREPARATIONS.  241 

self  does  not  know  whether  the  amateur  buys  seriously, 
or  not.  He  sells  his  Corot  very  dear,  — "  frame  and 
all,"  as  they  say  in  this  pretty  business :  and  it  is  his 
right ;  for  the  value  of  an  object  of  art  is  nominal,  and 
he  takes  care  to  deliver  only  the  authentic  article,  tested 
by  Father  Leemans,  who  furnishes  him  in  addition  all 
his  artistic  vocabulary,  which  is  very  surprising  in  the 
mouth  of  this  veteran,  who  can  make  his  face  take  any 
expression,  and  who  is  on  the  best  terms  with  the 
young  swells,  and  all  the  cocottes  in  the  neighborhood 
of  the  opera,  as  is  necessary  in  his  business. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  patriarch  Leemans  are 
Sephora  and  her  husband,  who,  with  their  chairs  and 
glasses  close  together,  are  playing  lovers ;  for  they  have 
seen  each  other  very  seldom  since  this  business  first  be- 
gan. Tom  Levis,  who,  in  every  one's  belief  is  in  Lon- 
don, lives  shut  up  in  his  little  chateau  at  Courbevoie,  and 
uses  his  fishing-line  all  day  for  lack  of  dupes  to  catch,  or 
occupies  himself  in  playing  terrible  pranks  on  the  Sprichts. 
Sephora,  who  maintains  greater  style  than  a  Spanish  queen, 
finely  dressed  and  with  great  ceremony,  awaits  the  king 
every  hour,  and  leads  the  fast  life  of  the  demi-monde, 
which  is  so  occupied  and  yet  has  so  little  that  is  enter- 
taining, that  these  dames  almost  always  go  in  couples  to 
enable  them  to  endure  the  long,  dull  promenades,  or  de- 
pressing leisure.  But  the  Countess  of  Spalato  has  not  her 
equal  in  the  city.  She  cannot  associate  with  women  in  for- 
bidden circles,  honest  women  do  not  visit  her,  and  Chris- 
tian n.  could  not  endure  to  see  about  her  the  flock  of 
idlers  who  fill  the  salons  which  only  men  visit.  There- 
fore she  always  remains  alone  in  her  boudoir,  which  has 
painted  ceilings,  and  mirrors  encircled  with  roses  and 
cupids,  which  only  reflect  her  own  indolent  face,  weary  of 


242  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

all  the  vapid  sentiment  which  the  king  pours  out  at  her 
feet  like  sick-headache  perfumes  exhaling  from  gold  cups. 
Ah  !  she  would  quickly  exchange  all  this  dull  princely 
life  for  the  little  basement  in  the  Rue  Royale,  with  her 
buffoon  opposite  her  performing  the  jig  he  danced  when 
he  rejoiced  over  his  great  strokes.  She  seldom  has  a 
chance  to  write  him,  and  keep  him  informed  of  the  affair 
and  its  progress. 

So  she  is  happy  this  evening  as  she  sits  close  to  him, 
and  stirs  him  up.  "Come,  make  me  laugh,"  she  says. 
And  Tom  exerts  himself :  but  his  spirit  is  not  spontane- 
ous ;  and  after  every  attempt  at  merriment  he  falls  again 
into  troubled  thought,  which  he  does  not  speak  of,  and 
which  you  could  not  guess  in  a  thousand  times'  trying. 

Well,  I  will  tell  you  :  Tom  Levis  is  jealous.  He  knows 
that  there  can  be  nothing  wrong  between  Christian  and 
Sephora ;  that  the  latter  is  too  shrewd  to  yield  without 
security.  But  the  moment  is  near ;  for,  when  the  paper 
is  signed,  one  must  perform.  And,  upon  my  word,  Tom 
feels  an  anxiety  that  is  very  strange  in  a  man  who  is 
devoid  of  all  superstition  and  childishness.  Little  fever- 
ish chills  of  fear  run  through  him  when  his  eyes  rest  on 
his  wife,  who  has  never  looked  so  pretty,  with  an  exceed- 
ingly attractive  toilet,  and  this  title  of  countess,  which 
seems  to  refine  her  features,  to  brighten  her  eyes,  and  to 
raise  her  hair  in  the  form  of  a  crown  studded  with  pearls. 
Evidently  Tom  Levis  is  not  equal  to  his  role :  his  shoul- 
ders are  not  strong  enough  for  the  business.  He  would 
give  a  good  deal  if  he  could  take  back  his  wife,  and  bring 
every  thing  to  a  standstill.  But  shame  and  fear  of  ridi- 
cule restrain  him ;  and  then  there  is  so  much  capital 
already  put  into  the  business  !  The  unhappy  man  de- 
bates within   himself,  turned   from   his   purpose   by  the 


MILITARY  PREPARATIONS.  243 

various  scruples  the  countess  would  never  have  believed 
him  capable  of.  He  affects  great  gayety,  gesticulates  with 
a  dagger  in  his  heart,  and  enlivens  the  table  by  relating 
some  of  the  successful  hits  of  the  agency,  and  finishes  by 
so  rousing  the  old  man  Leemans,  and  the  icy  Pichery 
himself,  that  they  take  out  from  their  bag  their  best  jokes 
and  amateur  tricks. 

They  are  here  —  are  they  not  ?  —  among  partners  and 
confederates,  with  elbows  on  the  table.  They  tell  about 
every  thing,  —  the  lower  part  of  the  hotel,  its  traps  and 
snares ;  the  coalition  of  great  merchants,  who  are  rivals 
in  appearance  ;  their  tricks  and  Auvergnat  trading,  —  that 
mysterious  free-masonry  which  puts  a  true  barrier  of 
greasy  collars  and  worn  out  frock-coats  between  the  rare 
object  and  the  caprice  of  a  purchaser,  and  forces  the 
latter  into  being  foolish  and  paying  high  prices.  They 
vie  with  each  other  in  telling  cynical  stories,  to  prove  who 
is  the  shrewdest  and  most  skilful. 

"  Have  I  told  you  the  one  about  my  Egyptian  lantern 
and  Mora?"  asked  Leemans,  sipping  his  coffee ;  and  he 
tells  it  for  the  hundredth  time,  as  old  warriors  tell  about 
their  favorite  campaign,  —  the  story  of  that  lantern  which  a 
Levantine  in  a  strait  let  him  have  for  two  thousand  francs, 
and  which  he  sold  again  the  same  day  for  forty  thousand 
to  the  president  of  the  council,  with  a  double  commission, 
—  five  hundred  from  the  Levantine,  and  five  thousand 
from  the  duke.  But  what  constitutes  the  charm  of  the 
story  are  the  ruses,  the  subterfuges,  and  the  manner  of 
working  up  the  rich,  vain  patron  to  a  desire  to  purchase. 
"  Yes,  no  doubt,  a  fine  piece ;  but  too  dear,  much  too 
dear.  I  beg  you,  Duke,  leave  that  folly  to  some  one  else. 
I  am  sure  that  the  Sismondo  —  Ah  !  the  work  in  the 
mounting  of  these  little  shrines  and  this  carved  chain  is 


244  K/NGS  IN  EXILE. 

beautiful  indeed  !  "  And  the  old  man,  becoming  ani- 
mated at  the  laughter  which  shook  the  table,  turns  over  a 
little  note-book  much  worn  at  the  edges,  in  which  his 
inspiration  is  fed  by  the  aid  of  a  date,  a  cipher,  and  an 
address.  All  the  famous  amateurs  are  classed  in  it,  like 
the  fiancees  with  a  large  dowry  on  Monsieur  de  Foy's 
great  book,  with  their  peculiarities  and  manias,  —  the 
brunettes  and  the  blondes ;  those  whom  it  is  necessary  to 
treat  rudely ;  and  those  who  only  believe  in  the  value  of 
an  object  when  it  costs  a  great  price  ;  and  also  the  scepti- 
cal amateurs,  and  the  innocent  amateur,  to  whom  one  can 
say,  when  selling  him  an  imitation,  — 

"  Remember,  now :  don't  let  that  go  out  of  your 
hands." 

In  itself  this  note-book  is  worth  a  fortune. 

"  Say,  Tom,"  said  Sephora  to  her  husband,  whom  she 
wished  to  show  off,  "  suppose  you  tell  them  the  story 
about  your  arrival  at  Paris  —  your  first  business  in  the 
Rue  Soufflot,  you  know." 

Tom  does  not  need  to  be  begged,  pours  out  a  little 
brandy  to  recover  his  voice,  and  relates,  that  about  ten 
years  ago,  while  returning  from  London,  played  out  and 
ragged,  with  a  last  hundred-sou  piece  in  his  pocket,  he 
learned  from  a  former  acquaintance,  whom  he  met  in  an 
English  tavern  near  the  station,  that  the  agencies  were 
then  occupied  with  a  big  affair,  —  the  marriage  of  Made- 
moiselle Beaujars,  the  daughter  of  the  contractor.  She 
has  twelve  million  dower,  and  has  taken  it  into  her 
head  to  marry  a  gi-eat  lord,  —  a  real  one.  They  promise 
a  magnificent  commission,  and  the  bloodhounds  are 
many.  Tom  is  not  disconcerted,  enters  a  reading-room, 
turns  over  the  book  of  heraldry  of  France,  Gotha,  and 
Bottin,  and    finishes  by   discovering   an    ancient  —  very 


MILITARY  PREPARATIONS.  «45 

ancient  —  family  related  to  the  most  celebrated  people 
living  in  the  Rue  Soufflot.  The  want  of  keeping  of  the 
title  with  the  name  of  the  street  made  him  fear  that  the 
family  fortunes  were  in  a  state  of  decay,  or  that  there  was 
a  stain  on  their  reputation.     "  On  what  floor  is  Marquis 

de  X ? "     He   sacrifices   his   last   silver   piece,  and 

obtains  some  information  from  the  concierge,  —  high  no- 
bility ;  a  widower ;  a  son,  who  has  left  Saint  Cyr ;  and  a 
young  lady,  eighteen  years  old,  and  very  well  brought  up. 
"Two  thousand  francs  in  rent,  gas,  water,  and  carpets," 
adds  the  concierge,  in  whose  opinion  all  this  increases 
his  tenant's  dignity.  "  Just  what  I  want,"  thinks  Tom 
Levis ;  and  he  goes  up,  rather  overcome  by  the  fine 
appearance  of  the  stairs,  a  statue  at  the  entrance,  arm- 
chairs on  every  story,  and  the  luxury  of  a  modern  house, 
with  which  his  worn-out  coat,  his  leaking  shoes,  and  his 
very  delicate  commission  form  a  strong  contrast. 

"  When  I  was  half-way  there,"  related  the  agent,  "  I 
was  tempted  to  go  down  again.  Then,  upon  my  faith  ! 
I  thought  it  would  be  a  famous  thing  to  try  and  do  it ; 
and  I  said  to  myself,  '  You  have  wit  and  coolness,  and 
your  living  to  get.  All  honor  to  intelligence  ! '  And  I 
climbed  up  four  steps  at  a  time.  I  was  shown  into  a 
large  room,  of  which  I  quickly  took  an  inventory.  Two 
or  three  fine  curiosities,  some  pompous  relics,  and  a 
portrait  of  Largillieres  comprised  the  list,  with  furniture 
that  showed  there  was  great  poverty  in  the  background  ; 
which  was  also  suggested  by  a  broken-down  lounge, 
arm-chairs  that  needed  stuffing,  and  a  fireplace  colder 
than  the  marble  of  its  mantel-piece.  The  master  of  the 
house  arrives,  —  a  majestic  old  fellow,  tres  chic,  like  Sam- 
son in  '  Mademoiselle  de  la  Seigliere.' 

"  *  You  have  a  son,  Marquis  ?  * 


246  /r/NGS  IN  EXILE. 

"  At  these  words  Samson  rises  indignantly.  I  mention 
the  sum,  twelve  million.  That  makes  him  sit  down  again, 
and  we  talk.  He  begins  by  confessing  that  he  has  not  a 
fortune  equal  to  his  name,  —  twenty  thousand  francs  in- 
come at  most,  —  and  that  he  would  not  be  sorry  to 
regild  his  escutcheon.  The  son  would  have  one  hundred 
thousand  francs  dower. 

" '  O  Marquis  !  the  name  would  suffice.'  Then  we 
set  the  price  of  my  commission,  and  I  run  off  in  a  great 
hurry,  —  people  waiting  for  me  at  my  office.  That  was 
fine  about  my  office  !  I  did  not  even  know  where  I 
should  sleep  at  night.  But,  when  I  reached  the  door, 
the  old  man  drew  me  back,  and  said  good-naturedly,  *  I 
have  a  great  mind  to  propose  to  you  that  you  should 
marry  my  daughter  also  :  she  has  no  dower  :  for,  to  tell 
you  the  truth,  I  exaggerated  just  now  in  stating  I  had  twenty 
thousand  francs  income.  I  have  not  half  that  sum  ;  but  I 
can  dispose  of  the  title  of  Roman  count.  Besides,  if  my 
son-in-law  were  in  the  army,  my  relations  with  the  min- 
ister of  war  would  enable  me  to  assure  him  advance- 
ment.* When  I  finished  taking  my  notes,  I  said,  '  Count 
on  me,  Marquis.'  And  I  was  just  going  out,  when  a 
hand  was  brought  down  on  my  shoulder.  I  turned  round, 
and  Samson  was  looking  at  me,  laughing  with  such  a  droll 
air.     '  And  then  there  is  myself,'  he  said. 

'"What,  Marquis?' 

"  '  Faith,  yes  !  I  am  not  yet  too  passe,  if  I  could  get 
a  chance.' 

"  He  finally  confessed  that  he  was  deeply  in  debt, 
without  a  sou  to  pay  with.  '  Pardieu  f  my  dear  Mr. 
Tom,  if  you  can  find  some  good  business-woman  who 
thoroughly  understands  economy,  —  an  old  maid  or 
widow,  I  don't  care  which,  —  send  her  to  me  with  her 
cash,  and  I  will  make  her  a  marchioness.' 


MILITARY  PREPARATIONS.  247 

"When  I  left  the  place,  my  education  was  complete. 
I  understood  all  there  was  to  make  trade  in  Parisian 
society,  and  the  Levis  Agency  was  morally  founded." 

This  story  was  a  wonder  narrated,  or  rather  acted,  by 
Tom  Levis.  He  would  get  up,  and  sit  down  again, 
imitating  the  majestic  deportment  of  the  old  noble,  who 
had  so  soon  degenerated  into  a  cynical  Bohemian ;  and 
he  showed  how  he  spread  his  handkerchief  between  his 
knees,  to  cross  one  leg  over  the  other,  and  repeated 
three  times  about  the  low  condition  of  his  resources.  It 
might  have  been  called  a  scene  from  the  "  Nephew  of 
Rameau,"  but  a  nephew  of  Rameau  in  the  nineteenth 
century,  without  powder  or  grace  or  a  violin,  and  with 
something  hard  and  ferocious,  —  the  harshness  of  that 
bull-dog  English  accent,  which  added  to  the  raillery  of 
the  former  rough  of  the  faubourgs.  The  rest  laughed, 
and  were  greatly  amused,  making  philosophical  and 
c)Tiical  reflections  on  Tom's  recital. 

"  You  see,  my  children,"  said  old  Leemans,  "  if  bro- 
kers understood  each  other,  they  would  be  the  masters 
of  the  world.  Every  thing  is  traded  in  these  times. 
Every  thing  must  come  to  us,  and  leave  a  Uttle  of  its 
skin  behind  as  it  passes  through  our  hands.  When  I 
think  what  business  has  been  done  the  past  forty  years 
in  this  hole  in  the  Rue  Eginhard,  —  all  that  I  have  melted 
down,  sold,  made  over,  and  exchanged  !  I  needed  noth- 
ing but  a  crown  to  trade  for ;  but  now  I  have  even  that." 

He  rose,  holding  up  his  glass,  and  cried,  with  flashing, 
ferocious  eyes,  — 

"  Here's  to  the  brokerage  business,  my  children  !  " 

Damet,  with  her  keen  eyes  peering  out  under  her 
black  Cantal  cap,  stood  in  the  background  watching  all, 
listening  to   every  thing,  and   getting   instruction  about 


248  KINGS  JN  EXILE. 

the  business ;  for  she  hoped  to  estabhsh  herself  after 
"  Monsieur's  "  death,  and  trade  on  her  own  account. 

Suddenly  the  door-latch  rattles  violently,  then  stran- 
gles as  if  it  had  chronic  catarrh.  Every  one  started. 
Who  could  come  at  such  an  hour? 

"  It  is  Lebeau,"  said  Sephora's  father.  "  It  can  be  no 
one  but  he." 

And  the  valet-de-cha?nbre  was  greeted  with  a  noisy 
welcome ;  for  they  had  not  seen  him  for  a  long  time. 
And  he  entered,  pale  and  haggard,  clinching  his  teeth, 
and  looking  absolutely  out  of  sorts. 

"  Sit  down  here,  my  old  broker  !  "  said  Leemans,  mak- 
ing a  place  between  himself  and  his  daughter. 

"The  devil!"  exclaimed  the  new-comer  at  the  sight 
of  their  excited  faces,  the  table,  and  the  remnants  of  the 
repast.  "  It  looks  as  if  you  had  been  having  a  good 
time  here." 

At  this  observation,  and  the  gloomy  tone  in  which  it 
was  made,  all  looked  at  each  other  rather  anxiously. 
"  Far  bleu,  yes  !  we  enjoy  ourselves,  and  make  merry. 
Why  should  we  be  sad? " 

Monsieur  Lebeau  seemed  dazed. 

"  What !  don't  you  know.  Countess  ?  When  did  you 
see  the  king?" 

"  Why,  this  morning,  yesterday,  —  every  day." 

"  Did  he  say  nothing  to  you  about  the  terrible  inter- 
view?" 

Then  in  two  words  he  describes  the  scene,  —  how  the 
treaty  was  burned,  and  the  business  at  the  same  time 
most  probably  destroyed. 

"Ah,  the  rascal !     I  am  duped  ! "  cried  Sephora. 

Tom,  very  much  disturbed  at  this,  looked  at  his  wife, 
and  into  the  very  depths  of  her  eyes.     Could  it  be  that 


MILITARY  PREPARATIONS.  249 

she  had  been  so  horribly  imprudent  as  to —  But  the 
lady  is  not  in  a  mood  to  explain  herself,  she  is  so  carried 
away  by  her  anger  and  indignation  against  Christian,  who 
for  a  week  has  involved  himself  in  a  series  of  falsehoods 
to  explain  why  the  act  of  renunciation  was  not  yet 
signed.  Oh,  the  coward,  the  coward  and  liar  !  But 
why  did  not  Lebeau  warn  them? 

"Ah,  yes  !  why?"  said  the  valet-de-chambre,  with  his 
hideous  smile.  "  It  would  have  given  me  a  great  deal 
of  trouble  to  have  warned  you.  For  ten  days  I  have 
been  on  the  road,  —  five  hundred  leagues  without  stop- 
ping to  take  breath  or  undress.  There  was  no  way  even 
to  write  a  letter,  watched  as  I  was  by  a  frightful  monk, 
a  Franciscan  father,  who  is  quick  to  suspect,  and  plays 
with  the  knife  like  a  bandit.  He  watched  all  my  move- 
ments, and  did  not  let  me  out  of  his  sight  a  moment, 
under  the  pretext  that  he  did  not  know  enough  French 
to  go  alone  and  make  himself  understood.  The  truth 
is,  they  mistrust  me  at  Saint  Mand^,  and  have  profited 
by  my  absence  to  plot  a  great  undertaking." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  every  eye. 

"  It  has  to  do,  I  believe,  with  an  expedition  to  Dal- 
matia." 

"  It  is  that  devil  of  a  Gascon  who  has  stirred  them  up." 

"  Oh  !  I  said  that  you  should  have  gotten  rid  of  him 
in  the  beginning." 

You  could  not  hide  any  thing  from  the  valet-de-cham- 
bre, who  had  long  ago  scented  these  preparations  in  the 
air,  and  observed  that  letters  were  sent  off  every  hour, 
and  that  mysterious  meetings  were  held.  One  day,  on 
opening  an  album  of  water-colors,  which  that  little  fool 
Madame  de  Rosen  had  left  lying  round,  he  saw  uni- 
forms and  costumes  designed  by  her,  —  "  Illyrian  Volun- 


250  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

teers,"  "Dragoons  of  the  Faith,"  "Blue  Shirts,"  and 
"  Defenders  of  Justice." 

Another  day  he  surprised  the  princess  and  Madame 
de  Siivis  in  a  grave  discussion  on  the  form  and  size  of 
the  rosettes.  From  all  this,  and  a  word  he  caught  now 
and  then,  he  concluded  they  were  planning  the  great 
expedition  ;  and  the  journey  they  have  just  made  him 
take  is  not  probably  unknown  to  them.  The  little  man 
in  black  —  a  kind  of  dwarf,  whom  they  sought  in  the 
mountains  of  Navarre  —  must  be  some  great  soldier, 
commissioned  to  lead  the  army  under  the  command  of 
the  king. 

"What?  the  king  will  go  too  !  "  cried  Sephora's  father, 
looking  at  her  with  scorn. 

A  tumult  of  words  follows  this  exclamation  :  — 

"  And  our  money  ?  " 

"  And  the  notes  ?  " 

"  It  is  an  outrage  !  " 

"  It  is  a  theft !  " 

And,  as  in  these  times  politics  are  the  Esop's  dish  set 
before  every  one,  Pichery,  who  is  a  strong  imperialist, 
and  as  stiff  as  the  stock  around  his  throat,  apostrophizes 
the  Republic  :  — 

"They  could  not  have  done  such  a  thing  under  the 
Empire  as  to  threaten  the  peace  of  a  neighboring  state  !  " 

"  It  is  very  certain,"  observed  Tom  Levis  gravely, 
"  very  certain,  that,  if  they  knew  it  at  the  presidency,  they 
would  not  suffer  it.  They  must  be  warned,  and  stirred 
up." 

"Yes,  I  have  thought  of  it,"  resumed  Lebeau.  "Unfor- 
tunately I  know  nothing  positively.  They  will  not  listen 
to  me,  and  then  our  people  mistrust.  They  have  taken 
every  precaution  to  avert  suspicion.     Thus  this  evening, 


narch  and  promenade.     Page  253. 


MILITARY  PREPARATIONS.  25 1 

the  queen's  anniversary,  they  are  to  give  a  great  pte  at 
the  Hotel  de  Rosen.     Go  and  tell  the  authorities  that  all 
those  dancers  are  about  to  conspire  and  plan  battles  ! 
There  is,  however,  something  unusual  about  this  ball." 

Then  for  the  first  time  they  remark  that  the  valet- 
de-chambre  is  in  evening-dress,  light  shoes,  and  white 
cravat ;  for  he  is  charged  with  arranging  the  buffets, 
and  must  return  very  quickly  to  Isle  Saint  Louis.  The 
countess,  who  has  been  meditating  for  a  moment,  says 
suddenly,  — 

"  Listen,  Lebeau  !  If  the  king  leaves,  you  will  know 
it :  will  you  not?  They  will  inform  you,  if  only  to  fasten 
his  trunk.  Well,  let  me  know  an  hour  before ;  and  I 
swear  to  you  that  the  expedition  will  not  take  place." 

She  says  this  in  her  quiet  voice,  but  slowly,  and  in  a 
firm,  decided  manner.  And  while  Tom  Levis  moodily 
wonders  how  Sephora  could  prevent  the  king  from  leav- 
ing, and  the  other  partners,  who  are  all  disconcerted,  are 
calculating  the  cost  to  them  should  the  affair  not  succeed, 
Lebeau  returns  to  his  ball,  hurrying  along  on  the  toes  of 
his  pumps  through  the  labyrinth  of  little  dark  streets, 
whose  lines  were  broken  by  old  roofs,  moucharabies,  and 
portals  bearing  escutcheons,  and  all  this  aristocratic  quar- 
ter of  the  last  century  which  is  transformed  into  stores 
and  manufactories,  and  which,  shaken  in  the  daytime  by 
heavy  trucks  and  the  tramping  of  poor  people,  at  night 
resumes  its  character  of  a  curious  dead  city. 

The^/(?  was  seen  and  heard  from  a  distance,  —  a  sum- 
mer-evening y?/^,  whose  sounds  reached  both  shores  of 
the  Seine  ;  while  the  lights  were  reflected  as  from  the  glare 
of  a  fire  to  the  end  of  the  island,  which  seems,  as  it 
projects  into  the  undulating  water,  like  the  high,  round 
poop  of  a  huge  ship  at  anchor.     On  approaching,  one 


252  JCINGS  FN  EXILE. 

distinguishes  the  high  windows  flooded  with  hght  behind 
the  curtains.  A  thousand  colored  lights  hung  on  the 
bushes  and  the  venerable  trees  in  the  garden  and  on  the 
Quai  d'Anjou,  which  is  usually  quiet  at  this  hour,  and 
the  steady  beams  from  the  lanterns  affixed  to  carriages  cut 
through  the  darkness.  The  Hotel  de  Rosen  has  not  seen 
such  a  fete  since  Herbert's  marriage ;  and  that  of  this 
evening  was  even  more  extensive  and  livelier,  all  the  win- 
dows and  doors  being  thrown  open  to  the  splendors  of  a 
starry  night. 

The  first  floor  formed  a  long  gallery  of  salons,  one 
opening  into  the  other,  and  as  lofty  as  a  cathedral,  adorned 
with  paintings  and  ancient  gilding,  where  the  Venetian 
and  Holland  chandeliers  and  Chinese  lanterns,  suspended 
from  the  ceiling,  shed  their  light  over  a  peculiar  decora- 
tion with  hangings,  over  which  played  a  shimmering  of 
red  and  greenish-gold  color,  heavy  shrines  of  massive 
silver,  framed  ivories  in  laid  work,  old  tarnished  tin 
mirror,  reliquaries,  standards,  and  treasures  from  Mon- 
tenegro and  Herzegovinia,  which  Parisian  taste  had 
grouped  together  with  no  element  that  was  harsh  or  too 
foreign.  The  band,  on  a  platform  of  an  ancient  oratory 
recalling  that  of  Chenonceaux,  was  surrounded  with  ban- 
ners, which  screened  the  chairs  reserved  for  the  king  and 
queen ;  and  contrasting  with  all  this  representation  of  the 
past  and  glitter  of  costly  antique  treasures,  which  would 
have  transported  Father  Leemans,  was  the  mad,  dizzy 
whirl  of  the  waltz  of  the  day,  through  which  glided  long 
embroidered  trains,  whose  wearers,  with  dazzling  eyes 
glancing  steadily  through  a  cloud  of  crepe  hair,  floated 
along,  defiant  in  their  brilliant  youth,  —  willowy,  gracefiil 
blondes,  and  brunettes  with  complexion  of  palest  olive. 
From   time  to  time  some   couple,  threading  their  way 


MILITARY  PREPARATIONS.  253 

through  the  whirling  crowd  of  dancers  and  the  confused 
mass  of  silken  stuffs  whose  rustling  forms  a  coquettish, 
mysterious  murmuring  as  an  accompaniment  to  the  music, 
reach  a  window  opening  to  the  floor,  and,  passing  through 
it,  receive  on  their  heads,  thrown  backwards,  the  glare  of 
the  frontal  on  which  the  queen's  cipher  is  inscribed  in 
flaming  gas-jets.  In  the  garden,  guided  by  the  music, 
they  follow  the  measures  of  the  dance  with  hesitating 
step,  stopping  occasionally  when  the  sound  is  faint ;  and 
finally  their  waltz  becomes  a  march  and  promenade,  ca- 
denced  and  harmonious,  following  along  the  fragrant 
clusters  of  magnolias  and  rose-bushes.  But  with  the 
exception  of  the  rare,  curious  decorations,  and  a  few  for- 
eign types  of  women  with  tawny  hair  and  the  soft,  supple 
motions  of  the  Slavonian,  at  first  glance  one  only  saw  one 
of  those  society  parish  festivals  such  as  the  Faubourg 
Saint  Germain,  which  is  represented  to-night  at  the  Hotel 
de  Rosen  by  the  most  ancient  and  high-sounding  names, 
gives  sometimes  in  the  old  gardens  in  the  Rue  de  I'Uni- 
versit^,  where  the  dancers  pass  out  from  waxed  floors  on 
to  the  lawns,  and  where  black  coats  are  relieved  by  light 
pantaloons;  and  these  out-of-door  fetes  are  freer  and 
gayer  than  any  others. 

In  his  room  on  the  second  story,  the  old  duke,  who 
had  been  racked  for  a  week  with  an  attack  of  sciatica,  was 
listening  to  the  echoes  of  his  ball,  burying  his  head  under 
the  coverlet,  and  stifling  cries  of  pain,  and  cursing  like  a 
soldier  at  the  ironical  cruelty  of  the  affliction  which  forced 
him  to  keep  his  bed  on  such  a  day,  and  made  it  impossible 
for  him  to  join  all  the  fine  young  men  who  were  to  leave 
the  next  day.  The  passports  having  been  given,  and  the 
order  of  battle  arranged,  the  ball  was  intended  as  a  fare- 
well, a  sort  of  defiance  to  the  mischances  of  war,  and  at 


254  A'/NGS  IN  EXILE. 

the  same  time  a  precautionary  measure  to  blind  the 
French  poUce.  'I'hougli  the  duke  could  not  accompany 
the  volunteers,  he  consoled  himself  with  the  thought  that 
his  son  Herbert,  as  well  as  his  crowns,  would  be  in  the 
expedition  ;  for  their  Majesties  consented  to  allow  him  to 
defray  the  expenses.  On  his  bed,  mingled  with  officers' 
maps,  and  plans  of  strategy,  lay  memoranda  of  the  ec^uip- 
ment,  boxes  of  guns,  boots,  blankets,  and  provisions  for 
the  campaign  ;  all  of  which  he  was  carefully  verifying 
with  a  terrible  puckering  of  his  mustache,  the  grimace  of 
an  heroic  royalist  struggling  against  his  parsimonious  and 
molelike  instincts.  Now  an  amount  or  some  information 
was  needed :  then  he  would  send  for  Herbert  to  come 
up,  —  which  was  an  excuse  to  keep  the  tall  son  a  few 
minutes  at  his  bedside,  as  he  was  to  leave  him  the  next 
day  for  the  first  time,  and  he  might  perhaps  never  see 
him  again,  —  the  son  for  whom  he  felt  the  deepest 
tenderness,  poorly  dissimulated  under  a  majestic  deport- 
ment and  silence.  But  the  prince  could  not  stay :  he  was 
in  a  hurry  to  go  down  again,  and  do  the  honors  of  the 
hotel,  and  especially  desired  not  to  lose  one  moment  of 
the  few  brief  hours  he  could  yet  pass  with  his  dear 
Colette. 

Standing  with  him  in  the  first  salon,  she  helped  him 
to  receive  his  father's  guests,  and  was  prettier  and  more 
elegant  than  ever  in  her  close-fitting  tunic  of  very  old 
lace  made  from  the  surplice  of  a  Greek  archbishop,  and 
whose  softness  well  became  her  fragile  beauty,  which  this 
evening  was  marked  by  a  mysterious,  almost  grave,  man- 
ner. This  gave  a  look  of  repose  to  her  features,  and  a 
depth  to  her  eyes,  which  were  of  the  same  shade  of  blue 
as  the  Httle  rosette  waving  among  her  curls  beneath  a 
diamond  aigrette,  —  list !  a  rosette  of  the  lUyrian  volun- 


MILITARY  PREPARATIONS.  255 

teer,  a  pattern  chosen  for  the  expedition,  and  designed 
by  the  princess,  who,  the  dear,  little  one,  had  nd"t  been 
idle  for  three  months.  Copying  proclamations,  carrying 
them  secretly  to  the  convent  of  the  Franciscans,  design- 
ing costumes  and  banners,  and  tracking  the  police,  whom 
she  fancied  were  always  at  her  heels,  was  the  way  she 
filled  her  role  of  a  great  royalist  lady,  inspired  by  her 
early  reading  at  the  Sacr6  Coeur.  There  was  but  one 
thing  wanting  in  this  programme  of  Vendean  brigandage  : 
she  could  not  leave,  and  follow  her  Herbert.  For  now  it 
was  Herbert,  nothing  but  Herbert.  Through  a  kindness 
of  nature,  she  no  longer  thought  of  the  other  any  more 
than  of  the  unfortunate  ouistiti  so  cruelly  dashed  to 
pieces  against  the  river-bank  near  by.  The  delight  of 
assuming  a  man's  costume,  and  putting  on  small-sized 
high  boots,  was  denied  Colette  for  two  reasons,  —  one,  her 
duties  towards  the  queen ;  and  the  other,  a  very  private 
one,  whispered  the  evening  before  in  the  aide-de-camp's 
ear.  .  .  .  There  were  many  secrets  for  the  little  woman  to 
keep  ;  and,  notwithstanding  her  lips  were  closed  in  mys- 
terious silence,  the  adorably  speaking  look  in  her  eyes, 
and  the  languid  manner  in  which  she  leaned  on  Herbert's 
arm,  would  readily  tell  all  for  her. 

Of  a  sudden  the  band  ceases  to  play,  and  the  dance 
stops,  and  every  one  rises  to  greet  Christian  and  Fr^d^- 
rique  as  they  enter.  They  have  crossed  the  three  salons, 
which  are  resplendent  with  national  treasures,  and  in 
every  part  of  which  the  queen  has  seen  her  cipher  em- 
broidered with  flowers,  and  lights,  and  precious  stones, 
and  in  which  every  thing  has  spoken  to  them  of  their 
country  and  its  glories ;  and  now  they  pause  on  the 
threshold  of  the  garden.  Never  has  monarchy  been 
represented  in  a  prouder   or   more    brilliant  manner,   a 


256  IsriNCS  IN  EXILE. 

perfect  couple  to  be  engraved  on  coins  of  a  people,  the 
frontal  of  a  dynasty.  The  queen,  in  particular,  is  charm- 
ing, looking  younger  by  ten  years  in  a  splendid  white 
dress,  and  having  as  her  only  ornament  a  heavy  amber 
necklace,  with  a  cross  for  pendant.  This  necklace,  hav- 
ing been  consecrated  and  blessed  by  the  Pope,  has  its 
legend,  which  the  faithful  repeat  to  themselves  in  a  low 
voice.  She  wore  it  all  through  the  siege  of  Ragusa,  lost 
it  twice,  and  found  it  again  by  a  miracle,  during  the 
sorties,  under  the  fire  of  battle.  She  has  a  superstition 
about  it,  and  has  made  a  queen's  vow  upon  it,  without 
thinking  of  the  charming  effect  of  these  gilded  pearls  so 
near  her  hair,  whose  brightness  they,  as  it  were,  reflect. 

While  the  sovereigns  are  standing  there  radiant,  and 
admiring  the  fete  and  the  fairy-like  scene  in  the  lighted 
garden,  three  strokes  of  a  bow  in  strange,  thrilling,  pow- 
erful chords,  suddenly  are  heard  from  a  cluster  of  rho- 
dodendrons. All  the  Slavonians  among  the  company 
tremble  on  recognizing  the  sound  of  the  guzlas,  of  whose 
long-armed  mandolins  one  has  a  glimpse  through  the 
dusky  verdure.  The  music  begins  with  a  murmuring 
prelude,  like  the  rolling  in  of  distant  waves  in  cadenced 
measure,  coming  nearer,  leaping  higher,  swelling  louder, 
and  spreading  wider.  It  seems  to  symbolize  a  heavy 
cloud  charged  with  electricity,  as  from  time  to  time  the 
swiftest  bow  emits  quivering  strokes  like  lightning-flashes, 
and  soon  bursts  forth  the  stormy,  voluptuous,  heroic 
rhythm  of  the  national  air,  which  is  both  a  hymn  and 
dancing  melody,  —  the  air  of  "  Rodoitza,"  which  in  II- 
lyria  is  heard  at  every  fete  and  every  battle,  and  presents 
the  double  character  of  its  ancient  legend :  The  Hun- 
garian soldier  Rodoitza,  having  fallen  into  the  hands  of 
the  Turks,  feigns  death  to  escape.     They  kindle  a   fp^ 


MILITARY  PREPARATIONS.  257 

on  his  bosom ;  but  he  does  not  move.  Then  a  serpent, 
excited  by  the  sunlight,  is  placed  upon  it.  They  drive 
twenty  nails  under  his  finger-nails,  and  he  still  is  as  mo- 
tionless as  stone.  Then  they  send  for  Haikouna,  the 
tallest  and  most  beautiful  daughter  of  Zara,  who  dances 
while  singing  the  national  air  of  Illyria.  At  the  very 
first  measures,  as  soon  as  Rodoitza  hears  the  rattling  of 
the  sequins  of  the  fair  one's  necklace,  and  the  fringe 
around  her  belt,  he  smiles,  and  opens  his  eyes,  and  would 
be  lost,  if  the  dancer,  taking  a  sweeping  step,  had  not 
flung  across  his  animated  face  the  silken  scarf  which  she 
weaves  as  a  crown  above  her  to  give  emphasis  to  her 
dance.  Thus  he  was  saved ;  and  that  is  why  for  two 
hundred  years  the  national  air  of  Illyria  has  been  called 
the  air  of  Rodoitza. 

On  hearing  it  under  the  sky  of  the  land  of  exile,  all 
the  Illyrians,  men  and  women,  grew  pale.  This  appeal  of 
the  guzlas,  which  the  band  at  the  end  of  the  salons  softly 
accompanies,  like  a  murmur  of  waves  heard  above  the 
cries  of  the  storm-bird,  is  the  voice  of  their  native  land 
trembling  with  memories  and  tears,  silent  regrets,  and 
hopes.  The  large,  heavy  bows,  like  those  used  in  com- 
bat, do  not  vibrate  on  common  chords,  but  on  nerves 
strained  and  ready  to  sunder  like  delicate,  resonant  fibres. 

These  young  men,  brave  and  proud,  with  the  deport- 
ment of  Hungarian  soldiers,  feel  all  the  indomitable 
courage  of  Rodoitza  that  was  so  well  rewarded  by  the 
love  of  a  woman.  These  beautiful  Dalmatians,  tall  as 
HaiTcouna,  have  at  heart  her  tenderness  for  heroes.  And 
the  old  men  while  thinking  of  their  distant  country,  and 
mothers  when  looking  at  their  sons,  all  long  to  sob ; 
and  all,  were  it  not  for  the  presence  of  the  king  and 
queen,  would  mingle   their  voices  with  the   loud   shrill 


258  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

cry  which  tlie  players  of  the  guzlas,  their  piece  being  con- 
cluded, pour  forth  to  the  stars  in  a  final  burst  of  harmony. 

Immediately  afterwards  the  dancing  is  resumed  with 
an  adandon  and  surprising  spirit  in  a  society  where  peo- 
ple seldom  amuse  themselves  except  in  a  conventional 
way. 

Decidedly,  as  Lebeau  said,  there  is  something  out  of 
the  common  order  in  \.h.\s/cie,  —  something  ardent,  fever- 
ish, and  passionate,  wliich  one  recognizes  in  the  clasp  of 
arms  around  the  dancers'  waists,  their  excitement,  and 
certain  sparkling  looks  that  are  exchanged,  even  to  the 
cadences  of  the  waltzes  and  mazurkas,  where  all  at  once 
a  clicking  like  that  of  stirrups  and  spurs  is  heard. 

Towards  the  end  of  a  ball,  when  the  pale  morning  light 
breaks  through  the  windows,  the  last  hour  of  pleasure  has 
this  hurried  ardor  of  intoxication  and  exhaustion.  But 
here  the  ball  has  hardly  begun ;  and  already  hands  burn 
under  their  gloves,  and  hearts  beat  under  the  bouquets 
on  their  corsage  or  the  little  diamond  brooches.  When 
a  couple  float  by,  inspired  by  the  music  and  by  love,  eyes 
follow  them  with  a  smiling,  tender  gaze  ;  for  indeed  every 
one  knows  that  all  these  fine  dancers  —  the  exiled  nobil- 
ity of  Illyria,  with  their  sovereign,  and  the  French  nobil- 
ity, always  ready  to  give  their  blood  for  a  good  cause  — 
are  to  leave  at  daybreak  for  a  bold,  perilous  expedition. 

Even  in  event  of  victory,  how  many  of  these  proud 
young  men  who  enlist  unconcernedly  will  return  ?  How 
many  before  a  week  will  be  biting  the  dust  on  the  other 
side  of  the  mountains,  still  having  in  their  ears  —  in 
which  the  blood,  being  turned  from  its  course,  is  buzzing 
—  the  sound  of  this  intoxicating  melody  of  the  mazurka  ! 
It  is  the  approach  of  danger  which  mingles  the  anxiety 
of  a  night  before  battle  with  the  life  of  the  ball,  making 


MILITARY  PREPARATIONS.  259 

eyes  glisten  with  tears  and  lightning- flashes,  now  brave, 
then  languishing. 

What  can  one  refuse  to  him  who  leaves  us,  who  is 
going  to  die  perhaps?  And  with  death  hovering  over 
you,  whose  wing  brushes  you  as  you  move  to  the  sound 
of  the  violins,  how  close  it  makes  the  clasp  of  an  arm  ! 
and  how  it  hastens  avowals  ! 

Fugitive  loves,  meeting  of  ephemera  crossing  the  same 
sunbeam  !  They  have  never  seen  each  other  before,  and 
will  never  see  each  other  again,  no  doubt ;  and  yet  two 
hearts  are  enchained.  A  few,  the  proudest,  try  to  smile 
in  spite  of  their  emotion ;  but  with  how  much  sweetness 
under  the  irony?  And  they  whirl  round  in  the  dance 
with  heads  thrown  back,  and  curls  flying,  each  couple 
oblivious  of  all  but  each  other  in  the  dizzy  round  of  the 
intricate  mystical  movement  of  a  waltz  of  Brahm  or  a 
mazurka  of  Chopin. 

There  was  one  person  who  was  also  thrilled  and  deeply 
moved.  It  was  M^raut,  in  whom  the  chant  of  the  guz- 
las  —  now  soft  and  sweet,  then  full  of  savage  energy — 
had  awakened  the  adventurous  Bohemian  mood  which  is 
part  of  every  Southern  temperament,  which  makes  one 
feel  a  mad  desire  to  go  far  away,  on  unknown  roads,  out 
to  the  light,  to  adventure,  and  battle,  and  to  do  some 
proud  and  valiant  deed  for  which  women  would  admire 
him.  Though  he  did  not  dance,  and  would  not  fight,  he 
was  full  of  the  intoxication  of  this  heroic  ball.  To  think 
that  all  these  young  men  were  to  leave,  to  give  their 
blood,  and  to  perform  dangerous  and  valiant  deeds,  while 
he  remained  behind  with  old  men  and  children ;  to  think, 
that,  having  organized  the  crusade,  he  would  let  it  be  en- 
tered upon  without  him,  —  caused  him  inexpressible  sad- 
ness and  annoyance.     Thought  felt  ashamed  in  the  pres- 


a6o  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

ence  of  action.  And  perliaps,  too,  this  heart-rending 
sensation  and  longing  to  die,  which  the  songs  and  Slavon- 
ian dances  poured  into  his  veins,  was  increased  by  Frdd^- 
rique's  beaming  pride  as  she  leaned  on  Christian's  arm. 
One  could  see  how  happy  she  was  at  finding  at  last  a  king 
and  warrior  in  her  husband. 

Haikouna,  Haikouna  !  in  the  clinking  of  arms  you  can 
forget,  and  pardon  all,  —  treachery  and  falsehoods.  What 
you  love  above  every  thing  is  physical  bravery ;  and  to  it 
you  will  always  throw  the  handkerchief  warm  with  your 
tears,  and  filled  with  the  delicate  fragrance  of  your  face. 
While  he  grieves  thus,  Haikouna  —  who  has  just  perceived 
in  a  corner  of  the  salon  this  broad  poetical  brow  around 
which  waves  the  abundant  hair  which  is  so  rebellious 
and  unconventional  —  smiles,  and  beckons  him  to  ap- 
proach ;  for  she  seems  to  have  divined  the  cause  of  his 
sadness. 

"  What  a  beautiful /^/(f,  Monsieur  M^raut  \ "  Then  she 
added,  lowering  her  voice,  — 

"  I  owe  even  this  to  you.  But  we  owe  you  so  much, 
one  hardly  knows  how  to  thank  you." 

It  was  indeed  he  whose  sturdy  faith  had  breathed  on 
all  these  dull  flames,  restored  hope  to  fainting  hearts,  and 
prepared  the  uprising  by  which  they  were  to  profit  on  the 
morrow.  The  queen  did  not  forget  it ;  and  there  was  no 
one  in  the  illustrious  assembly  to  whom  she  would  have 
spoken  with  this  deferential  kindness,  this  sweet  look  of 
gratitude,  here,  before  every  one,  in  the  respectful  circle 
made  around  sovereigns.  But  Christian  II.  approaches, 
and  takes  Fr^d^rique's  arm. 

"The  Marquis  of  Hezeta  is  here,"  said  he  to  Elys6e. 
"  Have  you  seen  him?  " 

"  I  am  not  acquainted  with  him,  sire," 


MILITARY  PREPARATIONS.  26 1 

"  He  pretends,  however,  that  you  are  old  friends.  But 
here  he  is  !  " 

This  Marquis  of  Hezeta  was  the  chief  who  was  to 
command  the  expedition  in  the  place  of  old  General  de 
Rosen.  In  the  last  coup  de  main  of  the  Duke  of  Palma, 
he  showed  astonishing  qualities  as  a  military  leader ;  and 
if  they  had  listened  to  him  the  battle  would  never  have 
had  its  pitiful  end.  When  he  saw  his  efforts  wasted,  and 
the  claimant  himself  give  the  example  and  the  signal  for 
flight,  the  ringleader,  being  weary  and  misanthropical, 
plunged  into  the  depths  of  the  Basque  mountains,  and 
lived  there  out  of  reach  of  childish  conspiracies,  false 
hopes,  and  sword-thrusts  in  the  water,  which  exhausted 
his  moral  strength.  He  wished  to  die  in  obscurity  in  his 
country,  but  was  tempted  once  more  to  adventure  by  the 
captivating  royalism  of  Father  Alph^e,  and  the  fame  of 
Christian  H.'s  bravery.  The  partisan's  ancient  nobility, 
his  romantic  life  spent  in  exile,  its  persecutions,  great 
brilliancy,  and  fanatical  cruelty,  surrounded  the  Marquis 
Jos6  Maria  de  Hezeta  with  an  almost  legendary  interest, 
and  made  him  the  hero  of  the  evening. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Ely  ?  "  said  he,  approaching  Elys^e, 
and  holding  out  his  hand,  and  calling  him  by  his  child- 
hood's name  in  the  time  of  the  Enclos  de  Rey.  "  Eh, 
yes  !  it  is  I.     It  is  your  old  teacher.  Monsieur  Papel." 

His  black  coat,  covered  with  crosses  and  orders,  and 
his  white  cravat,  changed  him  but  little ;  nor  had  even 
the  twenty  years  which  had  since  passed  over  his  enor- 
mous dwarfs  head,  which  was  so  browned  by  sunburn 
and  the  dust  of  the  mountains,  that  the  frightful  and 
characteristic  vein  in  his  face  was  hardly  seen.  With 
it  his  royalist  stubbornness  seemed  to  be  lessened,  as  if 
he  had  left  a  part  of  the  early  beliefs  and  illusions  of  his 


262  ICINGS  IN  EXILE. 

youth  at  the  bottom  of  the  Basque  cap  thrown  by  him 
into  a  stream  at  the  end  of  a  campaign. 

Elys^e  was  strangely  surprised  at  hearing  the  voice  of 
his  former  teacher,  who  had  made  him  what  he  was. 

"  You  see,  my  Httle  Ely  "  — 

Little  Ely  was  two  feet  taller  than  he,  and  had  not  a 
few  gray  streaks  in  his  hair. 

"  It  is  over.  There  are  no  more  kings.  The  princi- 
ple remains,  but  men  are  wanting.  Not  one  of  those  un- 
horsed men  is  capable  of  remounting ;  not  even  one 
has  a  real  desire.  Ah  !  what  have  I  not  seen,  what  have 
I  not  seen,  during  this  war?" 

A  scarlet  flush  spread  over  his  forehead,  and  suf- 
fused his  eyes,  which  had  a  fixed  stare,  as  if  they 
were  enlarged  at  the  vision  of  shame,  cowardice,  and 
treachery. 

"  But  all  kings  are  not  the  same,"  protested  M^raut ; 
"  and  I  am  sure  that  Christian  "  — 

"  Yours  is  no  better  than  ours,  —  a  child,  caring 
only  for  amusement ;  not  an  idea,  nothing  that  indi- 
cates will  in  those  pleasure-loving  eyes.  Only  look  at 
him  ! " 

He  pointed  to  the  king,  who  was  waltzing  into  the 
room  with  suffused  eyes  and  moist  forehead,  his  little 
round  head  bowed  over  his  partner's  bare  shoulder  as  if 
it  would  rest  there,  while  the  breath  from  his  parted  lips 
touched  it.  In  the  increasing  intoxication  of  the  ball, 
the  couple  passed  near  them  without  seeing  them,  their 
rapid  breathing  reaching  them  as  they  swept  past ;  and, 
as  people  poured  into  the  gallery  to  see  Christian  11. 
dance,  —  the  first  waltzer  in  his  kingdom,  —  Hezeta  and 
Meraut  took  refuge  in  the  deep  embrasure  of  one  of 
the  windows  which  opened  on  the  Quai  d'Anjou.      They 


MILITARY  PREPARATIONS.  263 

remained  there  a  long  time,  partly  within  the  noise  and 
whirl  of  the  ball,  and  partly  in  the  cool  darkness  and 
soothing  silence  of  the  night. 

"  Kings  no  longer  believe  in  any  thing,  no  longer 
desire  any  thing.  Why  should  we  hold  out  for  them  ?  " 
said  the  Spaniard  savagely. 

"  You  no  longer  have  faith,  and  yet  you  are  going." 

"  Yes,  I  am  going." 

"Without  hope?" 

"  Only  one,  —  that  of  getting  my  head  shot  off,  —  my 
poor  head  that  I  know  not  where  to  lay." 

"And  the  king?" 

"  Oh,  I  feel  easy  about  him  !  " 

Did  he  mean  that  Christian  II.  had  not  yet  mounted, 
or  that,  like  his  cousin  the  Duke  of  Palma,  he  would 
always  return  safe  from  the  battle?  He  did  not  explain 
himself  further. 

The  dancers  continued  in  their  mad  whirls ;  but  Ely- 
s6e,  discouraged  by  his  old  teacher  and  his  own  illusions, 
saw  them  now  with  different  eyes.  He  felt  a  deep  pity 
for  all  the  brave  youth  who  were  so  gayly  preparing  to  go 
and  fight  under  hopeless  chiefs ;  and  already  the  fete, 
with  its  confusion  and  gayety  and  softened  lights,  was 
obscured  by  the  dust  of  a  battle-field,  —  the  grand  melee 
after  a  defeat,  where  the  unknown  dead  are  gathered 
together.  For  a  moment,  to  escape  this  gloomy  vision, 
he  leaned  on  the  window-seat,  and  looked  out  on  the 
deserted  quay,  where  broad  streams  of  Hght  were  re- 
flected from  the  palace  into  the  Seine  beyond.  And  he 
listened  to  the  swollen  and  troubled  water,  which  min- 
gled the  sound  of  its  currents,  and  that  of  its  furious  ebb 
against  the  arch  of  the  bridges,  with  the  sighs  of  the 
violins,  and  the  heart-rending  plaints  of  the  guzlas ;  and 


a64  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

at  one  time  leaped  up  with  a  gurgle  like  the  sobs  of  an 
oppressed  heart,  and  at  another  poured  forth  in  great 
waves  in  a  wide  circle,  gushing  out  like  blood  from  a 
newly  opened  wound. 


THE  NIGHT-TRAIN.  265 


CHAPTER   XII. 

THE  NIGHT-TRAIN. 

"We  leave  this  evening  at  eleven  o'clock  from  the 
Lyons  station.  Destination  unknown,  probably  Cette, 
Nice,  or  Marseilles.     Let  me  hear  from  you." 

When  this  note,  scribbled  in  haste  by  Lebeau,  reached 
the  Rue  de  Messina,  the  Countess  de  Spalato  had  just  left 
the  bath,  and  —  fresh,  odorous,  and  supple  —  was  moving 
busily  to  and  fro  from  her  room  to  her  boudoir,  watering 
and  caring  for  her  basket  flowers  and  her  plants,  and 
wearing  a  pair  of  light  Swedish  gloves  that  reached  to  the 
elbows  for  this  promenade  through  her  artificial  garden. 
She  did  not  interest  herself  in  any  thing  else,  but  sat 
reflecting  a  moment  in  the  quiet  half-light,  the  bhnds 
being  down,  then  made  a  little  decided  gesture,  and 
shrugged  her  shoulders,  which  signified,  "  Bah !  who 
wishes  the  end?"  And  she  immediately  rang  for  her 
fe?ttme-de-chambre,  that  she  might  be  ready  when  the 
king  should  come. 

"  What  is  Madame  going  to  put  on? " 

Madame  looked  into  the  glass  as  if  to  ask  it  for  an 
idea. 

"  Nothing.     I  shall  remain  as  I  am." 

Nothing  indeed  could  make  her  prettier  than  her  long 
flannel  robe,  with  its  delicate,  pale  color,  and  soft,  cling- 
ing folds,  and  a  large  fichu  fastened  like  a  child's  sash  at 
her  waist  behind  ;  with  her  black  hair  twisted  and  frizzled. 


266  h'lNGS  TN  EXTLF.. 

and  carried  up  very  high  on  her  head,  exposing  the  neck, 
and  the  line  where  the  shoulders  began,  which  one  could 
divine  were  warmer  in  tone  than  her  face,  and  of  a  clear, 
mellow  amber,  and  very  smooth. 

She  decided  —  and  she  was  right  —  that  a  finished 
toilet  would  not  be  as  becoming  as  ihis  dishabille,  which 
would  give  her  still  more  the  appearance  of  a  simple  little 
girl,  which  the  king  liked  so  much  in  her,  but  which 
obliged  her  to  breakfast  in  her  room  ;  for  she  could  not 
go  downstairs  in  such  a  costume.  She  kept  house  in 
dignified  style,  and  could  no  longer  indulge  in  the  fancies 
and  Bohemian  ways  of  her  life  at  Courbevoie.  After 
breakfast  she  seated  herself  in  her  boudoir,  from  which 
a  veranda  projected  over  the  avenue,  and  quietly 
watched  for  the  king  in  the  rosy  reflections  of  the 
curtains,  as  she  formerly  sat  at  the  window  in  her 
parent's  bourgeois  home.  Christian  never  came  before 
two  o'clock ;  but  after  that  time  she  was  filled  with  an 
anxiety  that  was  new  to  her  placid  nature, — that  of 
waiting,  —  at  first  feeling  but  slightly  agitated,  like  a  rip- 
ple bubbling  on  the  water;  then  becoming  nervous, 
excited,  and  restless.  There  were  but  few  carriages  at 
this  hour  in  the  quiet  avenue,  which  was  flooded  with 
sunlight  between  its  double  row  of  plane-trees  and  new 
hotels,  which  extended  to  the  gilded  gate  of  Park  Mon- 
ceaux,  the  glass  of  whose  lamp-posts  glittered  in  the  sun's 
rays.  At  the  least  sound  of  wheels,  Sephora  drew  aside 
the  curtain  to  get  a  better  view,  and,  being  disappointed 
each  time  that  she  expected  to  see  him,  felt  irritated  by 
the  calm  serenity  and  the  country  quiet  out  of  doors. 

What  could  have  happened  ?  Would  he  really  leave 
without  seeing  her  ? 

She  sought  reasons  and  excuses :    but,  when  one  is 


THE  ALIGHT-TRAIN.  267 

waiting  for  another,  one's  whole  being  is  strained  in  ex- 
pectation and  suspense  ;  and  one's  ideas  are  as  fleeting, 
disconnected,  and  unfinished,  as  the  stuttering  words  on 
one's  lips.  The  countess  felt  this  torture,  this  numbness 
at  the  ends  of  her  fingers,  where  the  nerves  become  very 
sensitive.  Again  she  raised  the  pink  awning.  A  warm 
wind  stirred  the  foliage  of  the  branches,  and  a  coolness 
arose  from  the  ground,  where  the  watering-carts  had 
sprinkled  the  track  of  carriages,  which  were  now  more 
numerous  on  their  way  to  the  bois  for  the  five-o'clock 
drive.  She  began  to  be  seriously  frightened  at  being 
abandoned  by  the  king,  and  sent  off  two  letters,  —  one  to 
Prince  d'Axel's  house,  and  the  other  to  the  club ;  then 
she  dressed  herself,  not  being  able  to  remain  until  even- 
ing in  the  attire  of  a  little  girl  coming  from  the  bath, 
and  again  began  her  promenade  from  her  chamber  to 
her  boudoir,  to  her  dressing-room,  and  soon  all  over 
the  hotel,  trying,  by  moving  about,  to  forget  that  she  was 
waiting. 

It  was  not  a  little  cocotte  cage  that  the  Spalato  had 
bought ;  nor  was  it  one  of  those  splendid  houses  with 
which  the  millionnaire  traders  have  encumbered  the  new 
localities  in  the  western  part  of  Paris,  but  an  artistic 
hotel,  very  worthy  of  the  names  of  the  surrounding 
streets,  —  Murillo,  Velasquez,  Van  Dyck,  —  and  which 
was  distinguished  in  ever)'  way  from  its  neighbors,  from 
the  crowning  of  its  facade  to  the  knocker  of  its  door.  It 
was  built  by  Count  Plotnicld  for  his  mistress,  an  ugly 
woman,  on  whose  marble  toilet-table  he  placed  every 
morning  a  thousand-franc  note  folded  in  a  square  ;  and 
had  been  sold  pell-mell,  with  all  its  art-furniture,  for  two 
millions,  on  the  death  of  the  wealthy  Pole,  who  left  no 
will ;  and  Sephora  had  gained  these  treasures  all  at 
once,     jg 


268  rcTNT^^  TN  pyrrF. 

Down  the  heavy  staircase  of  carx'ed  wood,  whose 
steps  would  support  a  carriage  and  horses,  and  which 
makes  a  dark  background  to  the  lady's  grave  beauty, 
like  that  in  a  Dutch  painting,  the  Countess  of  Spalato 
descends  to  her  three  salons  on  the  ground-floor, — 
the  salon  containing  Dresden  china,  the  little  Louis 
XV.  room,  filled  with  a  ravishing  collection  of  vases, 
statuettes,  and  enamels,  in  the  fragile  style  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century,  which  seem  to  be  moulded  by  the  rosy 
fingers  of  favorites,  and  brightened  by  the  roguishness 
of  their  smiles  ;  the  salon  of  ivory  ornaments,  which  are 
displayed  under  glass  lined  with  flame-color,  ivories 
from  China,  with  a  quantity  of  little  figures,  trees  with 
fruits  of  precious  stones,  fishes  with  eyes  of  jade,  and 
ivory  figures  of  the  middle  ages,  with  a  mournful,  pas- 
sionate expression,  and  on  which  the  blood  in  red 
wax  on  the  crucifixes  makes  a  spot  as  on  the  deathly 
pallor  of  human  flesh ;  the  third  room,  lighted  as  a 
studio,  and  hung  in  Cordova  leather,  is  waiting  to  be 
furnished  by  Leemans.  Usually  the  soul  of  this  female 
bric-a-brac  dealer  is  exalted  among  these  pretty  things, 
beautified  to  her  still  more  by  the  bargain  she  made. 
To-day  she  goes  in  and  out  of  the  rooms  without  looking 
at  any  thing,  or  seeing  any  thing,  her  thoughts  far  away, 
lost  in  irritating  reasoning.  What  !  he  would  leave  her 
thus  ?  Then  he  did  not  love  her ;  and  she  had  been  so 
certain  that  she  had  thoroughly  captivated  and  secured 
him ! 

The  servant  returns.  No  news  of  the  king.  They 
have  not  seen  him  anywhere.  That  was  just  like  Chris- 
tian !  Feeling  himself  weak,  he  fled  and  concealed  him- 
self. For  a  second  this  woman,  who  has  such  mastery 
over  herself,   is   roused    from    her  calmness    by  intense 


THE  NIGHT-TRAIN.  269 

anger.  She  would  break  and  tear  every  thing  to  pieces 
around  her,  were  it  not  for  her  long  habit  of  selling 
articles,  which,  visibly  as  it  were,  sets  a  value  on  every 
object.  Lying  back  in  an  arm-chair,  while  the  declining 
day  renders  all  her  costly  treasures  of  yesterday  invisible, 
she  sees  them  vanish  from  her  with  her  dream  of  a 
colossal  fortune.     The  door  is  thrown  violently  open. 

"  Dinner  is  ready.  Countess  !  " 

She  must  seat  herself  at  table  all  alone  in  the  stately 
dining-room,  on  whose  eight  panels  are  large  portraits  by 
Frantz  Hals  estimated  at  eight  hundred  thousand  francs, 
—  stern,  dull  faces,  stiff  and  solemn  in  their  high  ruffs, 
but  less  solemn  than  the  steward  with  a  white  cravat  who 
is  at  the  buffet  carving  the  dishes,  which  are  served  by 
two  droll  mutes  dressed  in  nankeen.  The  irony  of  this 
pompous  service  in  contrast  with  the  abandonment  which 
threatens  Madame  de  Spalato  contracts  her  heart  with 
spite ;  and  one  would  say  that  the  servants  suspect  some- 
thing, the  valets'  scomfulness  so  increases  as  they  stand 
in  the  most  ceremonious  attitude  while  she  eats,  and 
wait  till  she  finishes,  grave  and  immovable  as  a  photogra- 
pher's assistants  after  they  have  placed  a  sitter  before  the 
instrument.  Gradually,  however,  the  abandoned  one 
takes  comfort,  and  recovers  her  true  nature.  No  :  she 
will  not  allow  herself  to  be  cast  off  thus.  Not  that  she 
cares  for  the  king ;  but  the  business,  the  great  scheme, 
and  her  self-love,  are  at  stake  before  her  associates.  Well, 
then,  her  plan  is  made.  Ascending  to  her  room,  she 
writes  a  word  to  Tom.  Then,  while  the  servants  in  the 
basement  are  dining,  and  gossiping  about  the  solitary 
and  troubled  day  of  their  mistress,  the  countess  with  her 
little  hands,  which  are  not  awkward,  prepares  a  travelling- 
valise,  which  has  often  made  the  journey  from  the  agency 


270  K/NGS  JN  EX  I  I.E. 

to  Courbevoic,  tlirows  over  her  shoulders  a  cloak  of 
woollen  beige  for  the  cold  night,  and  with  her  bag  in  her 
hand,  like  a  young  lady  in  a  store  who  has  received 
her  wages,  stealthily  leaves  her  palace  on  foot  for  the 
nearest  carriage-station. 

Christian  II.,  on  his  part,  had  passed  a  no  less  anxious 
day.  Having  remained  very  late  at  the  ball  with  the  queen, 
he  awoke  with  his  head  and  heart  full  of  the  heroic  mur- 
muring of  the  guzlas.  The  preparations  for  the  jour- 
ney —  examining  his  weapons,  as  well  as  the  costume  of  a 
lieutenant-general,  which  he  had  not  put  on  since  Ragusa 
—  kept  him  until  eleven  o'clock,  followed  and  watched  by 
Lebeau,  who  was  greatly  perplexed,  and  dared  not  push 
his  insinuating  questions  too  far.  At  eleven  o'clock  the 
little  court  assembled  for  a  low  mass  said  by  Father  Al- 
ph^e  in  the  salon,  which  was  transformed  into  an  oratory, 
the  mantle-piece  serving  as  an  altar,  and  the  velvet  lam- 
brequins being  covered  with  an  embroidered  cloth.  The 
Rosens  were  absent ;  the  old  man  being  in  bed,  and  the 
princess  having  gone  to  the  station  with  Herbert,  who 
had  left  with  several  young  men.  Hezeta  was  to  follow 
them  in  the  next  train ;  and  all  the  Httle  troop  slipped 
away  thus  in  the  daytime,  not  to  excite  suspicion. 

This  private  mass,  which  recalled  times  of  trouble,  the 
exalted  face  of  the  monk,  and  the  military  energy  of  his 
gesture  and  voice,  savored  of  incense  and  powder ;  the 
religious  ceremony  being  made  solemn  by  the  thought  of 
the  approaching  battle. 

The  breakfast-hour  was  made  oppressive  by  these 
mingled  emotions,  although  the  king  had  a  certain  vanity 
about  leaving  only  agreeable  remembrances :  and  he 
affected  a  respectful,  tender  manner  towards  the  queen ; 
but  it  was  defeated  by  Fr(^d(^rique's  rather  mistrustful  cold- 


THE  NIGHT-TRATN.  271 

ness.  The  child's  eyes  were  timidly  watching  them,  for 
the  horrible  scene  of  the  other  night  haunted  his  youthful 
memory,  and  gave  him  nervous  intuitions  above  his  age. 
The  Marchioness  de  Silvis  gave  heavy  sighs  of  farewell. 
Elys^e,  whose  confidence  had  entirely  returned,  could 
not  restrain  his  joy  when  thinking  of  that  counter-revolu- 
tion of  the  people  that  he  had  dreamed  of  so  long,  —  of 
the  mob  forcing  the  doors  of  a  palace  to  gain  an  entrance 
for  a  king.  According  to  him  success  was  not  doubtful. 
Christian  had  not  the  same  confidence  ;  but  beyond  the 
unpleasantness  of  leave-taking,  when  it  seems  that  a  soli- 
tude is  created  all  at  once  by  a  premature  separation  from 
objects  or  beings  who  surround  you,  he  felt  no  gloomy 
apprehension,  but  a  relief  from  a  very  false  situation,  sur- 
rounded as  he  was  by  threatening  due-bills  and  obliga- 
tions of  honor.  In  case  of  victory  the  civil  list  would 
discharge  every  thing :  defeat,  on  the  contrary,  would 
bring  about  a  general  ruin.  Death,  a  ball  in  the  forehead, 
full  in  the  face,  he  thought  of  as  a  final  solution  of  money 
and  heart  troubles ;  and  his  light-heartedness  was  a  good 
medium  between  the  queen's  abstraction  and  Elysde's 
enthusiasm.  But,  while  they  were  all  three  talking  in  the 
garden,  a  servant  passed. 

"  Tell  Sammy  to  harness  up,"  ordered  Christian. 

Fr^d^rique  trembled. 

"Are  you  going  out?" 

"  Yes,  for  prudence'  sake.  Yesterday's  ball  must  have 
made  Paris  talk.  I  must  show  myself,  —  must  be  seen 
at  the  club  and  on  the  boulevard.  Oh,  I  will  return  to 
dine  with  you  !  " 

He  ascended  the  steps  with  one  bound,  joyous  and  free 
as  a  boy  leaving  school. 

"  I  shall  be  afraid  till  the  end,"  said  the  queen.     And 


2  72  A'TNGS  IN  EXILE. 

M(^raut,  who,  like  her,  foresaw  all,  could  not  find  a  word 
to  encourage  her. 

The  king,  however,  had  made  strong  resolutions.  Dur- 
ing mass  he  had  sworn  not  to  see  Sephora  again,  feeling 
certain  that  if  she  wished  to  retain  him,  if  she  should  clasp 
her  arms  closely  around  his  neck,  he  would  not  have 
strength  to  leave  her.  With  the  best  faith  in  the  world 
he  was  driven  to  his  club,  and  found  a  few  bald-headed 
men,  —  some  absorbed  in  silent  games  of  whist,  and  others 
in  majestic  attitudes  were  sleeping  around  the  great  table 
in  the  reading-room.  Every  thing  here  was  more  dead 
and  deserted  because  people  had  played  a  great  deal  the 
night  before.  In  the  morning,  as  all  the  party  were  leav- 
ing, his  Highness  the  Prince  d'Axel  at  their  head,  a  troop 
of  asses  had  passed  before  the  club,  trotting  along  and 
braying.  His  Highness  called  the  driver.  They  drank 
warm  milk  in  champagne-glasses.  Then  these  gentlemen, 
who  were  somewhat  tipsy,  getting  astride  the  poor  beasts  in 
spite  of  their  kicking  and  the  shouts  of  the  driver,  ran  the 
most  amusing  steeple-chase  all  along  the  Rue  de  la  Paix. 
You  should  have  heard  the  thrilling  account  of  the  stately 
M.  Bonoeil,  the  manager  of  the  Royal  Club :  — 

"  Oh,  it  was  so  droll  !  His  Highness  on  that  little  ass 
obliged  to  draw  up  his  long  legs,  —  for  his  Highness  has 
fine  legs,  —  and  he  still  kept  his  imperturbable  coolness  ! 
Ah,  if  your  Majesty  had  been  there  ! " 

His  Majesty  regretted  very  much  having  missed  this 
pleasant  party  of  fools.  Happy  Prince  d'Axel !  In  trou- 
ble with  the  king,  his  uncle,  —  driven  from  his  country 
by  all  kinds  of  court  intrigues,  —  he  would  never  reign, 
perhaps,  since  the  old  monarch  intended  to  be  married 
again,  and  to  a  young  woman,  and  would  briniT  a  lot  of 
little  heirs-presumptive  into  the  world.     But  all  this  did 


THE  NIGHT-TRAIN.  273 

not  disturb  him  in  the  least.  To  have  a  jolly  time  in 
Paris  seemed  to  him  far  more  interesting  than  to  give 
himself  up  to  politics  in  Illyria.  And  gradually  the 
chaffing,  the  sceptical  sarcasm,  gained  the  ascendency 
with  Christian,  who  was  lying  on  the  lounge  where 
the  royal  prince  had  left  the  impress  of  his  contagious 
caprices.  In  the  idle  atmosphere  of  the  club,  every 
thing  —  the  heroic  excitement  of  the  evening  before, 
and  the  morrow's  attempt  —  seemed  to  the  young  king 
to  be  devoid  of  glory  or  grandeur.  Positively  he  would 
be  demoralized  were  he  to  remain  there ;  and,  to  escape 
the  torpor  which  was  invading  him  like  a  stupefying  poi- 
son in  his  veins,  he  arose,  and  descended  into  the  fresh 
air  among  the  living. 

It  was  three  o'clock,  —  the  hour  that  he  usually  went  to 
Messina  Avenue,  after  having  breakfasted  at  the  club  or 
with  Mignon.  Involuntarily  his  feet  followed  the  usual 
road  in  this  summer  Paris,  which  was  a  little  larger  and 
less  exciting  than  the  other,  but  which  has  charming 
views  and  shorter  perspectives,  with  verdure  massed 
against  rocks,  and  leafy  shadows  playing  over  the  white 
asphalt  road. 

What  pretty  women  glided  along  there,  half  concealed 
by  their  parasols,  with  so  much  grace,  so  charmingly 
spirituelle,  fascinating,  and  amiable  !  What  other  women 
could  walk  like  them,  arrange  the  folds  of  their  drapery 
with  such  grace,  and  talk  and  dress  so  well  ?  Ah,  Paris, 
Paris,  city  of  easy  pleasure  and  short  hours  !  and  to  think, 
that,  in  order  to  be  surer  of  leaving  it,  perhaps  he .  was 
going  to  lose  his  head  !  What  delightful  moments  he  had 
enjoyed,  however,  full  of  sensuous  and  perfect  pleasure  ! 
In  the  fervor  of  his  gratitude,  the  Slavonian's  eyes  spar- 
kled at  all  these  passers-by,  who  charmed  him  with  some 


2  74  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

feature,  or  motion  of  the  skirt,  with  a  fanlike  train 
trimmed  with  kxce.  There  was  little  resemblance  be- 
tween the  chevalier  king,  who  in  the  morning  kneeled 
between  his  wife  and  son  in  the  oratory  before  setting 
out  to  regain  his  kingdom,  and  the  handsome  lady-killer 
with  an  eager  face,  and  with  the  hat  of  a  conqueror  on 
his  little,  round,  frizzly  head,  and  with  cheeks  flushed  by 
pleasure.  Fr(^d^rique  was  not  wrong  in  detesting  the 
excitement  of  Paris,  and  fearing  its  effect  on  the  unsteady 
brain,  which  was  nothing  but  froth,  like  certain  wines 
that  do  not  keep. 

At  the  junction  of  the  Boulevard  Haussmann  and 
Messina  Avenue,  Christian  stopped,  and  waited  for  sev- 
eral carriages  to  pass.  This  was  to  bring  himself  to  rea- 
son. How  did  he  come  here,  and  so  quickly?  The 
Hotel  Potnicki,  with  its  two  small  spires,  like  those  of  a 
Parisian  castle,  and  its  mouchai^abie  veiled  in  an  alcove, 
rose  up  before  him.  What  a  temptation  !  Why  should 
he  not  go  there  ?  why  should  he  not  see  for  the  last  time 
the  woman  who  would  haunt  his  life  with  the  memory  of 
unsatisfied  longing,  the  more  exciting  through  disap- 
pointment ? 

Finally,  after  a  moment's  terrible  debate,  which  was 
perfectly  apparent  in  his  weak  body,  which  swayed  like  a 
reed,  he  made  an  heroic  decision,  jumped  into  an  uncov- 
ered carriage  which  was  passing,  and  gave  the  address  of 
his  club.  He  would  never  have  had  courage  to  do  this, 
if  it  had  not  been  for  a  vow  made  to  God  during  mass 
in  the  morning.  To  this  cowardly  soul,  which  was  as 
devout  as  that  of  a  Catholic  woman,  this  outweighed 
every  thing. 

At  the  club  he  found  Sephora's  letter,  and  the  mere 
odor   of  musk   in   the   paper   communicated   the   fever 


THE  NIGHT-TRAIN.  275 

which  was  consuming  her.  The  prince  brought  him  the 
other  missive,  —  a  few,  hurried  imploring  phrases,  in  a 
handwriting  that  Tom's  books  had  never  known.  But 
here  Christian  II.,  being  surrounded,  sustained,  and 
looked  at,  felt  himself  stronger ;  for  he  was  one  of  those 
persons  whose  attitude  is  influenced  by  lookers-on  in  the 
gallery.  He  thrust  the  letters  into  the  bottom  of  his 
pocket.  The  young  men  from  the  club  appeared,  full 
of  the  story  about  the  asses,  which  had  been  told  at 
length  in  the  morning  paper.  The  sheet  circulated  from 
hand  to  hand ;  and,  while  reading  it,  they  all  laughed  till 
they  were  perfectly  exhausted. 

"  Is  there  any  thing  up  for  this  evening?  "  asked  these 
young  noblemen,  swallowing  soda-water :  the  club  had 
a  whole  storehouse  of  these  alterative  waters.  Led 
away  by  their  gay  spirits,  the  king  was  persuaded  to  go 
and  dine  with  them  at  the  Cafe  de  Londres,  and  not  in 
one  of  those  salons  whose  familiar  hangings  had  danced 
before  their  eyes  a  dozen  times  when  intoxicated,  and 
whose  mirrors  bore  their  names  and  writings,  interlaced 
like  a  wintry  frost  on  the  window-panes  ;  but  in  a  cellar, 
one  of  those  charming  catacombs  extending  beneath  the 
theatre  of  the  Op^ra  Comique,  and  which  is  filled  with 
casks  and  bottles,  whose  cases  are  arranged  in  regular 
rows  with  porcelain  labels.  All  the  wines  of  France  were 
buried  here.  They  set  the  table  in  the  back  part,  among 
the  sea-green  bottles  of  the  Chateau  Yquem,  which  were 
lying  flat,  and  gleamed  softly,  sparkling  in  the  reflection 
of  the  gas  and  girandoles  of  colored  glass.  It  was  an 
idea  of  Wattelet,  who  wished  to  mark  the  departure  of 
Christian  II.  with  a  novel  repast,  known  to  him  and  the 
prince  alone.  But  the  effect  was  lost  through  the  damp- 
ness of  the  walls  and  ceiUngs,  which   soon  chilled  the 


276  A'INGS  IN  EXILE. 

guests,  who  were  wearied  with  the  fatigue  of  the  preced- 
ing night.  Queue  de  I'uule  kept  falling  asleep,  and  wak- 
ing with  a  start.  Rigolo  talked  but  little,  and  laughed  or 
pretended  to,  drawing  out  his  watch  every  five  minutes. 
Perhaps  he  was  thinking  of  the  queen,  whom  this  delay 
would  alarm. 

At  dessert  a  few  women  who  were  in  the  habit  of 
dining  at  the  Caf6  de  Londres  appeared,  and,  knowing 
the  princes  were  below,  left  their  tables,  and,  guided  by 
the  waiters  bearing  candlesticks,  filed  into  the  cellars, 
with  their  skirts  over  their  arms,  giving  little  shrieks  as  if 
frightened  at  their  frolic.  Almost  all  were  decolletees. 
At  the  end  of  five  minutes  they  were  coughing,  and 
looked  pale,  shivering  at  the  side  of  the  gentlemen,  who 
at  least  were  protected  by  their  turned-up  collars.  "  A 
good  joke  to  give  them  all  a  cough,"  as  one  of  them 
said,  who  shivered  more,  or  was  less  excited,  than  the 
others.  They  decided  to  go  up  and  take  their  coffee  in 
the  salons  ;  and,  while  they  were  moving.  Christian  disap- 
peared. It  was  not  quite  nine  o'clock.  His  coupe  was 
waiting  for  him  at  the  door. 

"  Messina  Avenue,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice  through  his 
closed  teeth. 

It  came  over  him  like  a  fit  of  madness.  During  din- 
ner, he  had  thought  of  her  alone.  Oh,  to  clasp  her  in 
his  arms,  and  be  no  longer  the  dupe  of  her  tears  and 
prayers  ! 

"  Madame  has  gone  out." 

This  was  like  cold  water  on  a  brazier.  Madame  had 
gone  out.  One  could  not  doubt  it  on  seeing  the  disor- 
der of  the  house,  given  over  to  the  servants,  whose  bright 
ribbons  and  striped  waistcoats  Christian  saw  vanish  as  he 
entered.     He  asked  nothing  more,  and,  being  suddenly 


THE  NIGHT-TRAIN.  277 

sobered,  measured  the  bottomless  abyss  into  which  he 
had  nearly  fallen,  —  a  perjurer  before  God,  and  a  traitor 
to  the  crown  !  He  held  the  rosary  in  his  burning  fingers, 
and  counted  the  beads  with  an  ave  of  thanksgiving,  while 
the  carriage  rolled  to  Saint  Mand6  through  the  fantastic 
shapes  and  nightly  terrors  of  the  wood. 

"The  king!"  said  Elysde,  who  was  watching  at  the 
windows,  and  saw  the  reflection  of  two  lanterns  of  the 
coupe  as  it  entered  the  court-yard.  "The  king  !  "  It  was 
the  first  word  that  had  been  spoken  since  dinner.  As  if 
by  magic,  every  face  brightened,  and  at  the  same  time 
tongues  were  loosed.  The  queen  herself,  in  spite  of  her 
apparent  calmness  and  strength  of  character,  could  not 
restrain  a  cry  of  joy.  She  had  feared  that  every  thing  was 
lost,  —  Christian  detained  at  that  woman's,  abandoning 
his  friends,  and  dishonoring  himself  forever.  And  there 
was  no  one  around  her  during  these  three  long  hours  of 
waiting  to  whom  this  thought  had  not  come,  and  who 
was  not  just  as  anxious,  even  to  little  Zara,  whom  she  had 
kept  up,  and  who,  understanding  the  anguish  and  tragic 
meaning  of  this  silence,  without  venturing  one  of  those 
cruel,  prophetic  questions  which  children  speak  out  so 
plainly,  had  taken  refuge  behind  the  leaves  of  a  big 
album,  and,  at  the  announcement  of  the  king's  return, 
suddenly  put  out  his  pretty  face  bathed  with  the  tears 
that  had  been  silently  flowing  for  an  hour.  Later,  when 
they  questioned  him  about  his  great  sorrow,  he  confessed 
that  he  was  in  despair  for  fear  the  king  would  go  off"  with- 
out kissing  him.  Little,  loving  soul,  to  whom  this  young, 
lively,  smiling  father  seemed  like  a  tall,  frolicsome 
brother,  —  a  charming,  big  brother,  —  who  worried  their 
mother  ! 

They    heard    Christian's   quick,    hurried   voice   giving 


278  JiriNGS  IN  EXILE. 

orders.  Then  he  went  up  to  his  room,  and  five  minutes 
afterwards  appeared  equipped  for  the  journey  in  a  small 
hat  with  a  coquettish  buckle  and  blue  cord,  and  with  the 
light,  low  gaiters  of  a  tourist  at  the  beach,  like  those  in 
Wattelet's  pictures.  Under  the  dandy,  however,  was  seen 
the  monarch,  —  the  authority,  the  grand  air,  the  ability 
to  appear  nobly  under  all  circumstances.  He  approached 
the  queen,  and  muttered  a  few  excuses  for  his  delay. 
Still  pale  with  emotion,  she  said  to  him  in  a  very  low 
voice,  "  If  you  had  not  come,  I  should  have  gone  with 
Zara  to  take  your  place."  He  knew  that  she  was  speak- 
ing the  truth,  and  for  a  moment  saw  her,  with  her  child 
in  her  arms,  under  the  fire  of  balls,  as  he  saw  her  in  the 
terrible  scene  on  the  balcony  of  his  window,  with  the 
little  one  closing  his  beautiful  eyes,  and  resigned  to  death. 
Without  making  any  reply,  he  carried  Fr^d^rique's  hand 
to  his  lips  with  fervor ;  then,  with  the  impetuous  move- 
ment of  youth,  drew  her  towards  him,  saying,  "  Pardon  ! 
pardon ! " 

Pardon  him  !  The  queen  might  still  have  been  capable 
of  doing  so,  but  at  the  door  of  the  salofi  she  saw  Lebeau, 
the  sly  valet,  the  confidant  of  his  pleasures  and  treachery, 
ready  to  leave  with  his  master ;  and  suddenly  a  frightful 
idea  came  to  her  while  she  gently  freed  herself :  "  What 
if  he  were  lying?     If  he  were  not  to  leave  !  " 

Christian  divined  this,  and,  turning  to  M6raut,  said, 
"You  will  accompany  me  to  the  station.  Sammy  will 
bring  you  back." 

Then,  as  the  moments  were  few,  he  hurried  through  his 
farewells,  said  a  pleasant  word  to  each,  —  to  Boscovich 
to  the  marchioness,  —  and  took  Zara  on  his  knees,  and 
told  him  about  the  expedition  he  was  attempting  in  order 
to  regain  his  kingdom,  charging  him  never  to  give  the 


THE  NIGHT-TRAIN.  279 

queen  cause  for  sorrow,  and,  if  he  should  never  see  his 
father  again,  to  remember  that  he  died  for  his  country 
while  doing  his  duty  as  a  king. 

A  little  speech  a  la  Louis  XIV.,  really  not  badly  ex- 
pressed, which  was  gravely  listened  to  by  the  young 
prince,  who  was  rather  disconcerted  at  the  seriousness  of 
these  words  coming  from  a  mouth  about  which  he  had 
always  seen  smiles.  But  Christian  was  a  man  of  the 
present  moment,  excessively  changeable  and  flighty,  and 
was  now  eager  for  departure  and  the  chances  of  the 
expedition,  and  more  touched  than  he  wished  to  appear, 
which  made  him  try  to  escape  very  quickly  from  the 
emotions  of  the  last  moment.  He  waved  a  "  Farewell ! 
farewell !  "  to  every  one,  with  a  low  bow  to  the  queen, 
and  went  out. 

Truly,  if  Elysee  M^raut  had  not  for  three  years  seen 
the  royal  home  disturbed  by  Christian's  weakness  and 
shameful  cowardice,  he  would  not  have  recognized  the 
Rigolo  of  the  Royal  Club  in  the  proud,  heroic  prince, 
who,  as  they  rolled  rapidly  to  the  Lyons  station,  ac- 
quainted him  with  his  plans  and  projects,  and  his  political 
views,  which  were  very  broad  and  sensible. 

The  tutor,  who  was  always  somewhat  superstitious  in 
his  royalist  faith,  saw  in  this  a  divine  intervention,  a  privi- 
lege of  caste,  —  the  king  always  coming  to  himself  at 
the  right  moment  through  the  grace  of  his  coronation 
and  hereditary  descent ;  and,  without  explaining  to  him- 
self why,  this  new  moral  birth  of  Christian,  preceding 
and  presaging  the  other  that  was  near,  caused  him  an 
inexpressibly  uncomfortable  feeUng,  a  haughty  jealousy, 
whose  cause  he  did  not  wish  to  analyze.  While  Lebeau 
was  busy  buying  the  tickets  and  registering  the  baggage, 
they  walked  up  and  down  the  large  waiting-room ;  and, 


aSo  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

in  the  solitude  of  this  departure  at  night,  the  king  could 
not  help  thinking  of  Scphora,  and  the  tender  conversa- 
tions with  her  when  he  escorted  her  to  Saint  Lazare. 
Under  the  influence  of  this  memory,  a  woman  who  was 
passing  attracted  his  attention ;  for  she  had  the  same 
figure,  and  a  trifle  of  the  bold,  coquettish  step. 

Poor  Christian  !  poor  unwilling  king  ! 

Here  he  is  at  last  seated  in  a  car,  the  door  of  which 
Lebeau  had  just  opened,  —  the  public  car,  in  order  not 
to  attract  suspicion.  He  throws  himself  into  a  corner,  in 
a  hurry  to  have  it  over,  and  be  off.  This  slow  parting  is 
very  painful  to  him.  At  the  whistle,  the  train  starts, 
stretches  along,  and  rumbles  noisily  over  the  bridges, 
and  passes  through  the  sleeping  villages  dotted  with 
street-lamps  in  a  row,  and  rushes  out  into  the  broad 
country. 

Christian  H.  breathes  again.  He  feels  strong,  saved, 
protected :  he  would  almost  hum  if  he  were  alone  in 
the  car.  But  yonder,  at  the  other  window,  a  little  shadow 
buried  in  black  draws  itself  down,  and  shrinks  back  with 
the  evident  desire  not  to  attract  attention.  It  is  a  wo- 
man. Young  or  old,  ugly  or  pretty?  The  king  —  a 
matter  of  habit  —  casts  a  look  towards  her.  Nothing 
stirs  but  the  two  wings  on  her  little  hat,  which  turn  back, 
looking  as  if  they  were  about  to  fold  themselves  up  to 
sleep. 

"  She  has  gone  to  sleep.     Let  us  do  the  same." 

He  stretches  himself  out,  wraps  himself  up  in  a  rug, 
vaguely  sees  the  outlines  of  trees  and  bushes  mingled 
together  in  the  shadows  thrown  by  clouds  scurrying 
across  a  soft  sky,  and  by  the  signal-posts  as  the  train 
dashes  past  them.  His  heavy  eyelids  are  about  to  close, 
when  he  feels  across  his  face  the  caress  of  delicate  hair, 


THE   NIGHT-TRAIN.  28 1 

and  lowered  eyes  near  his,  and  a  breath  Hke  violets  from 
lips  which  murmur  close  to  his,  — 

"Wicked  man  !  without  saying  farewell  to  me  !  " 
Ten  hours  later  Christian  II.  awoke  to  the  sound  of 
cannon,  and  to  the  blinding  light  of  a  beautiful  country 
sun  flickering  through  rustling  foliage.  He  had  just  been 
dreaming  that  he  was  mounting  at  the  head  of  his  troops, 
under  a  hail- storm  of  shot,  the  hillock  which  leads  from 
the  port  of  Ragusa  to  the  citadel.  But  he  found  him- 
self lying  here  motionless,  buried  in  a  large  bed,  hol- 
lowed out  like  a  battle-field,  with  ever}'  thing  confused 
in  his  brain  and  before  his  eyes,  his  bones  giving  way  to 
delicious  fatigue.  What  had  happened?  Gradually  he 
saw  every  thing  clearly,  and  he  recollected.  He  w^s  at 
Fontainebleau,  at  the  Hotel  du  Faisan,  opposite  the  forest 
whose  dense  green  tops  rose  up  into  the  blue  sky,  and  the 
cannon  was  firing  in  the  artillery  exercises  ;  and  the  living 
reality,  the  visible  link  between  his  ideas,  —  Sephora,  —  was 
writing  busily  with  a  poor,  scratching  pen  at  the  eternal 
secretary  which  is  found  only  in  hotels.  She  saw  the 
king's  admiring,  grateful  glance  in  the  mirror,  and  an- 
swered—  without  moving,  without  turning  round — with 
a  tender  kiss  in  her  eyes,  and  with  one  she  tossed  him 
from  the  tip  of  her  pen.  Then  she  began  to  write  quietly, 
with  a  smile  in  the  comer  of  her  seraphic  mouth. 

"  I  am  sending  home  a  despatch  to  keep  my  family 
from  being  anxious,"  she  said,  rising  to  give  it  to  the 
boy.  When  he  had  gone,  feeling  relieved  of  anxiety, 
she  opened  the  window  to  admit  the  pale  sunlight, 
which  streamed  in,  in  floods  like  water  from  a  mill-dam. 
"  Heavens  !  how  beautiful  it  is !  "  She  then  seats  herself 
near  her  lover,  laughing  joyously ;  for  she  is  wild  with 
pleasure  at  being  in  the  country,  and  at  the  thought  of 


282  KINGS  I  A''  EXILE. 

being  able  to  ramble  through  the  woods  this  charming 
day.  They  had  time  to  do  this,  as  the  night-train  which 
had  brought  them  would  not  carry  back  Christian  till  the 
following  night ;  for  Lebeau,  continuing  his  route,  was 
to  warn  Hezeta  and  his  noblemen  that  the  embarkment 
was  retarded  for  one  day.  The  enamoured  Slavonian 
would  have  liked  to  draw  down  the  curtains  on  a  happi- 
ness which  he  would  have  had  continue  till  the  last  hour, 
till  the  last  moment.  But  women  have  liigher  ideals ; 
and  immediately  after  breakfast  a  hired  landau  carried 
them  through  splendid  avenues  bordered  by  even  lawns, 
and  groves  of  trees  in  the  form  of  a  square,  which  make 
the  forest  open  like  a  park  at  Versailles  before  rocks 
divide  it  into  wild  and  superb  sites.  It  was  the  first 
time  they  had  been  out  together,  and  Christian  was 
tasting  this  brief  joy  before  the  terrible  morrow  of  battle 
and  death. 

They  rolled  along  under  wide  arches  of  verdure, 
whence  fell  the  leaves  in  light  showers  from  the  motion- 
less beeches,  through  which  shone  the  distant  sun,  which 
with  difficulty  pierced  the  heavy  mass  of  foliage  where 
tree  towered  above  tree,  and  all  were  of  antediluvian 
growth. 

Under  this  shelter,  without  other  horizon  than  the 
profile  of  a  beloved  woman,  —  without  other  hope,  mem- 
ory, or  desire  than  her  caresses,  —  the  poetic  nature  of  the 
Slavonian  expanded.  Oh,  to  live  there,  both  of  them, 
—  no  one  but  themselves,  —  in  a  little  guard-house,  with 
moss  and  thatch  outside,  and  fitted  up  inside  as  a  luxu- 
rious nest ! 

He  wished  to  know  how  long  she  had  loved  him,  and 
what  impression  he  made  on  her  the  first  time.  He 
translated  verses  of  his  country  for  her,  rhythmed  with 


THE  NIGHT-TRAIN.  283 

light  kisses  on  her  throat  and  eyes ;  and  she  listened, 
and  pretended  to  understand  and  answer,  her  eyelids 
quivering,  heavy  from  her  sleepless  night. 

Eternal  discord  in  the  duet  of  love  !  Christian  de- 
sired to  bury  himself  in  solitary  places  yet  unexplored. 
Sephora  would  seek  famous  spots,  —  the  labelled  curi- 
osities of  the  forest,  where  are  small  pleasure-gardens ; 
shops  with  articles  in  juniper-wood ;  exhibitors  of  stones 
which  tremble,  and  rocks  which  weep ;  trees  shattered 
by  lightning ;  and  where  all  the  people  are  sheltered  in 
huts  or  caves,  whence  they  spring  out  at  the  sound  of 
wheels.  She  hoped  to  escape  by  this  the  wearisome, 
monotonous  song  of  love ;  and  Christian  admired  her 
touching  patience  in  listening  to  the  interminable 
speeches  of  these  good  country-people  who  have  time 
and  to  spare  for  all  they  do. 

At  Franchart  she  wished  to  draw  water  from  the 
famous  well  of  the  ancient  monks,  which  is  so  deep 
that  the  bucket  is  nearly  twenty  minutes  in  coming  up. 
Christian  must  have  enjoyed  all  this  !  Here  still  another 
good  woman,  covered  with  medals  like  an  old  gendarme, 
showed  them  the  beauties  of  the  site,  —  the  ancient  sea, 
on  the  borders  of  which  the  stag  was  cured.  She  had 
told  the  same  story  in  the  same  words  for  so  many  years, 
that  she  imagined  she  had  belonged  to  the  convent,  and 
three  hundred  years  after  had  visited  the  sumptuous  coun- 
try-seats of  the  first  Empire. 

"  It  is  here,  su-  and  madame,  that  the  great  emperor 
sat  in  the  evening  with  all  his  court."  And  she  pointed 
to  a  sand-stone  bench,  with  three  or  four  seats,  in  the 
heather.  Then  she  added  loftily,  "  Opposite  was  the 
empress  with  her  ladies  of  honor." 

This  bringing  imperial  pomp  to  mind  among  crumbled 
19 


284  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

rocks,  gnarled  trees,  and  dry  broom,  made  Christian  feel 
gloomy. 

"Are  you  coming,  Sephora?"  he  asked.  But  Sephora 
was  looking  at  an  esplanade,  where,  according  to  the 
cicerone,  they  used  to  bring  the  little  King  of  Rome, 
who,  led  by  his  governess,  would  from  a  distance  hold 
out  his  arms  to  his  august  parents.  This  picture  of  a 
child-king  reminded  the  King  of  lUyria  of  his  little  Zara, 
who  stood  before  him  in  this  barren  landscape,  supported 
by  Fr^d^rique,  and  looking  at  him  with  his  great  sad 
eyes,  as  if  to  ask  him  what  he  was  doing  there.  But  it 
was  only  a  vague  reminder,  quickly  effaced ;  and  they 
continued  their  walk  under  oaks  of  every  size,  past 
hunting  rendezvous  with  glorious  names,  in  the  hollows 
of  green  valleys,  where  are  cliffs  rising  above  an  enclosure 
of  crumbled  granite,  and  sand-pits  where  pine-trees 
pushed  through  the  red  earth  with  their  strong  and  pro- 
jecting roots. 

Now  they  followed  a  dark  alley  in  impenetrable 
shade,  with  deep,  damp  borders.  On  each  side  were 
rows  of  trunks,  like  pillars  of  a  cathedral,  forming  silent 
naves,  where  was  heard  the  step  of  a  squirrel,  or  the 
fall  of  a  leaf  fluttering  down  like  a  flake  of  gold.  A 
deep  sadness  came  from  overhead,  from  the  branches 
where  rested  no  birds,  and  which  were  as  empty  and 
sonorous  as  deserted  houses.  Christian,  who  was  still  in 
love,  as  the  day  advanced,  gave  depth  to  his  passion  by 
a  mournful,  melancholy  tone.  He  stated,  that,  before 
leaving,  he  made  his  will,  and  described  the  emotion 
caused  him  by  the  words  from  beyond  the  tomb  written 
in  the  midst  of  life. 

"  Yes,  it  was  very  tiresome,"  said  Sephora,  like  some 
one  who  is  thinking  of  other  things.     But  he  thought 


THE  NIGHT-TRAIN.  285 

himself  so  much  beloved,  he  was  so  accustomed  to  being 
so,  that  he  did  not  notice  her  absent-mindedness.  He 
even  consoled  her  in  advance  in  case  of  disaster  be- 
falling him,  and  laid  out  a  plan  of  life  for  her  :  she  must 
sell  the  hotel,  and  retire  to  the  country,  where  she  would 
live  with  her  memories.  All  this  was  adorably  con- 
ceited, naive,  and  sincere  ;  for  he  felt  a  cold  weight  at 
his  heart  in  thinking  of  his  farewell,  which  he  took  for 
presentiments  of  death.  With  hands  clasped  he  talked 
to  her  in  a  low  voice  of  a  future  life.  He  had  on  his 
neck  a  little  medallion  of  the  Virgin,  which  never  left 
him ;  and  he  took  it  off  for  lier.  You  can  imagine 
whether  Sephora  was  happy.  Suddenly  a  camp  of 
artillery,  with  gray  tents  standing  in  a  row,  light  smoke, 
and  unharnessed  horses  tied  up  for  the  night,  gave 
another  turn  to  the  king's  thoughts.  The  moving  to  and 
fro  of  men  in  uniforms  on  fatigue-duty,  all  the  busy 
movements  in  the  open  air  in  the  glow  of  sunset,  and  the 
inspiring  sight  of  a  soldier  in  camp,  awoke  the  nomadic 
and  warlike  instincts  of  his  race. 

The  carriage,  rolling  over  the  velvety  carpet  of  moss 
in  the  broad  avenue,  caused  the  soldiers,  who  were  busied 
in  arranging  their  tents  or  making  soup,  to  raise  their 
heads.  They  laughed  as  they  saw  the  pekin  and  his 
pretty  sweetheart  pass.  Christian  looked  under  the 
hedges  to  the  end  of  the  camp,  and  felt  a  great  desire  to 
talk  to  them,  and  make  a  speech.  A  bugle  sounded,  and 
others  answered  from  a  distance.  Before  an  officer's 
tent,  a  little  apart  on  rising  ground,  the  most  beautiful 
Arabian  horse  was  prancing,  with  distended  nostril  and 
flying  mane,  and  neighing  at  the  warlike  sound.  The 
Slavonian's  eyes  sparkled.  Ah  !  the  fine  life  he  would 
lead  in  a  few  days  !  the  grand  deeds  he  would  perform  ! 


'.36  A'/NCS  IN  EXILE. 

But  what  a  pity  that  Lebeau,  who  was  on  his  way  to 
Marseilles,  had  carried  away  the  baggage  !  he  would 
have  so  liked  to  have  Sephora  see  him  in  his  lieutenant- 
general's  costume.  And,  getting  excited,  he  pictured  the 
gates  of  towns  being  forced,  the  republican  army  routed, 
and  his  triumphant  entry  into  Laybach  through  the 
streets  hung  with  flags.  She  should  be  there.  God 
willing,  he  would  send  for  her,  and  establish  her  in  a 
splendid  palace  at  the  gates  of  the  town ;  and  they  would 
see  each  other  as  freely  as  in  Paris.  Sephora  did  not  say 
much  in  answer  to  these  fine  projects.  No  doubt  she 
would  have  preferred  to  keep  him  wholly  to  herself;  and 
Christian  admired  her  for  this  silent  self-sacrifice,  which 
truly  raised  her  to  her  rank  of  the  king's  mistress. 

Ah  !  how  he  loved  her  !  and  how  quickly  passed  the 
evening  at  the  Hotel  de  Faisan  in  their  room  hung  with 
red  !  the  light  curtains  shutting  out  the  sounds  and  sights 
of  a  summer  evening  in  a  little  town,  the  few  scattered 
lights,  and  the  chatting  of  promenaders  before  the  doors, 
who  soon  dispersed  as  the  sounds  of  drums  and  bugles 
died  away.  What  kisses,  foolish  words,  and  passionate 
vows  were  added  to  those  already  given  !  In  a  tender 
and  languishing  mood  they  pressed  close  to  each  othei-'s 
hearts,  which  they  could  hear  beat  fast ;  while  the  warm 
breezes,  murmuring  through  the  trees,  fluttered  their  cur- 
tains ;  and  a  fountain  plashed  softly  in  the  litde  garden 
of  the  hotel,  as  in  an  Arabian  court- yard  ;  and  the  flicker- 
ing light  of  a  lamp  in  the  servants'  hall  was  the  only  one 
to  be  seen. 

One  o'clock  !  He  must  leave.  Christian  dreaded  the 
last  moment  of  the  parting,  believing  that  he  would  have 
to  struggle  against  prayers  and  caresses ;  that  he  would 
have  to  summon  all  his  courage.     But  Sephora  was  ready 


THE  NTGHT-TRAII7.  287 

before  him,  and  wished  to  accompany  him  to  the  station, 
thinking  less  of  her  love  than  of  the  honor  of  her  royal 
lover. 

Poor  man  !  if  he  could  have  heard  the  "  Ouf !  "  of  relief 
she  sighed  —  the  cruel  girl  —  when  she  remained  alone 
on  the  road,  and  saw  the  two  green  eyes  of  the  train  wind 
out  of  sight  \  if  he  could  have  known  how  happy  she 
was  to  return  and  spend  the  night  alone  at  the  hotel, 
while,  shaken  by  the  jolts  of  an  empty  omnibus  over  the 
old  pavement  at  Fontainebleau,  she  said  to  herself  in  a 
deliberate  tone,  free  from  all  emotion  of  love,  — 

"  I  hope  Tom  has  done  all  that  is  necessary." 

Most  certainly  what  was  necessary  had  been  done  ;  for, 
on  the  arrival  of  the  train  at  Marseilles,  Christian  II., 
stepping  out  of  the  car  with  his  small  valise  in  his  hand, 
was  very  much  astonished  to  see  a  man  in  a  flat  cap  with 
silver  braid  approach  him,  and  beg  him  very  politely  to 
enter  his  ofifice  a  moment. 

"  What  for  ?  Who  are  you  ?  "  asked  the  king  very 
loftily. 

The  man  with  the  flat  cap  replied,  — 

"  The  commissary  of  surveillance.^'' 

In  the  office  Christian  found  the  Prefect  of  Marseilles, 
a  former  journalist,  with  a  red  beard,  and  bright,  lively 
face. 

"I  regret  to  inform  your  Majesty  that  your  journey 
must  end  here,"  said  the  latter,  with  exquisite  politeness. 
"  My  government  could  not  permit  a  prince,  to  whom 
France  gives  hospitality,  to  profit  by  it  to  conspire  and 
take  up  arms  against  a  friendly  country." 

The  king  tried  to  protest ;  but  the  slightest  details 
were  known  to  the  prefect. 

"  You  were  to  embark  at  Marseilles  ;  your  companions 


288  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

at  Cette,  on  a  steamer  from  Jersey.  The  place  of  land- 
ing was  the  shore  of  Gravosa  ;  the  signal,  two  gun-shots,  — 
one  from  on  board,  the  other  from  the  land.  You  see 
we  are  well  instructed.  They  are  equally  so  at  Ragusa, 
and  I  will  save  you  from  falling  into  an  ambuscade." 

Christian  II.,  wiio  was  stunned,  wondered  who  could 
have  given  this  information,  which  was  known  to  himself 
alone,  to  the  queen,  Hezeta,  and  one  other  whom  he 
certainly  was  far  from  suspecting.  The  prefect  smiled  in 
his  light  beard. 

"  Come,  your  Majesty,  you  must  make  up  your  mind. 
The  affair  is  a  failure ;  but  you  will  be  more  fortunate 
another  time,  and  more  prudent  too.  Now,  I  beg  your 
Majesty  to  accept  the  shelter  I  offer  at  the  prefecture. 
Everywhere  else  you  would  be  exposed  to  annojiing 
curiosity.     The  affair  is  known  in  the  town." 

Christian  did  not  answer  at  once.  He  looked  round 
at  this  little  government  room  filled  with  a  green  arm- 
chair, green  boxes,  a  porcelain  stove,  and  large  maps 
with  the  lines  of  the  trains  marked  upon  them,  —  a  miser- 
ably bourgeois  hole,  where  his  heroic  dream  and  the  last 
echoes  of  the  march  of  Rodoitza  faded  away.  It  was 
like  a  traveller  in  a  balloon,  who  went  up  higher  than 
the  mountain-tops,  and  came  down  almost  in  the  same 
place  he  started  from,  near  a  peasant's  hut,  while  the 
poor  balloon  was  collapsed,  a  bundle  of  oil-cloth  in  a 
stable. 

He  accepted  the  invitation,  however,  and  found  a  truly 
Parisian  home  at  the  house  of  the  prefect,  who  had  a 
charming  wife,  a  very  good  musician,  who  when  dinner 
was  over,  after  a  conversation  in  which  all  the  subjects 
of  the  day  were  passed  in  review,  seated  herself  at  the 
piano,  and  turned  over  lately  published  pieces  of  music. 


THE  NIGHT-TRAIN.  289 

She  had  a  pretty  voice,  sang  very  agreeably ;  and  gradu- 
ally Christian  approached  her,  and  talked  music  and 
opera.  "  The  Echoes  of  Illyria  "  were  lying  on  a  little 
table  between  the  "  Reine  de  Saba"  and  the  "Jolie  Par- 
fumeuse."  The  prefect  asked  the  king  to  give  him  the 
movement  and  color  of  the  songs  of  his  country,  and 
Christian  hummed  a  few  popular  airs  :  — 

" Beaux  yeux,  bleus  comme  un  del  (Fete"  and  again 
"  Jeunes  filles  qui  nCecoutez  en  tressant  des  nattes." 

And  while,  leaning  over  the  piano,  pale  and  fascinating, 
he  was  assuming  the  tone  and  melancholy  poses  of  an 
exile,  yonder  on  the  Illyrian  sea,  of  whose  snow-capped 
waves  and  clusters  of  cactus  the  "  Echoes  "  sang,  a  fine 
and  enthusiastic  band  of  young  men,  whom  Lebeau  had 
neglected  to  warn,  were,  with  all  sails  flying,  sailing  gayly 
to  death,  to  the  cry  of  "  Long  Uve  the  king  ! " 


290  KINGH  IN  EXILE. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A    PRISONER. 

My  dear  Love.  —  Monsieur  de  Hezeta  and  I  have  just  been 
brought  back  to  the  citadel  at  Ragusa,  after  a  session  of  ten  hours 
at  the  Theatre  du  Corso,  where  the  council  of  war  intrusted  with 
our  sentence  were  sitting.  By  a  unanimous  verdict  we  have  been 
condemned  to  death. 

I  must  tell  you  that  I  like  this  best.  At  least  we  know  now 
what  to  expect,  and  are  no  longer  in  close  confinement.  I  read 
your  dear  letters,  and  1  can  write  you.  This  silence  was  stifling 
me,  besides  knowing  nothing  about  you,  and  my  father,  and  the 
king,  whom  I  believed  had  been  killed,  the  victim  of  some  spy. 
Fortunately  his  Majesty  has  come  off  with  no  more  than  a  sad 
disaster  and  the  loss  of  a  few  loyal  followers.  Worse  might  have 
happened  to  us. 

The  papers  have  informed  you,  have  they  not,  how  things  have 
gone  ?  Through  an  incredible  fatality,  the  king's  countermand  hav- 
ing failed  to  reach  us,  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening  we  found 
ourselves  sailing  to  the  place  of  rendezvous  in  the  islands.  Hezeta 
and  I  were  on  deck,  and  the  others  in  the  cabin,  all  armed  and 
equipped,  with  your  pretty  little  cockade  in  our  hats.  We  crossed 
in  two  or  three  hours.  There  was  nothing  in  sight  but  fishing- 
barks,  or  those  large  feluccas  which  sail  along  the  coast.  Night 
came  on,  bringing  with  it  a  sea-fog,  which  was  very  unfortunate  for 
our  meeting  with  Christian  II.  After  waiting  a  long  while,  we 
finally  say  to  each  other,  that  his  Majesty's  steamer  perhaps 
passed  near  us  without  seeing  us,  and  has  landed.  And  just  then, 
from  the  shore  where  they  were  to  await  our  signal,  a  rocket  goes 
up.  That  signifies,  "  Land."  There  is  no  more  doubt :  the  king 
is  there,  and  we  all  say,  "  Let  us  join  him." 

On  account  of  my  knowledge  of  the  country,  —  I  have  so  often 
hunted  young  wild  duck  on  this  coast,  —  I  commanded  the  first 


A   PRISONER.  291 

boat,  Hezeta  the  second,  and  Monsieur  de  Miremont  the  third  with 
the  Parisians.  We  were  all  Illyrians  in  our  boat,  and  our  hearts 
beat  fast.  There  before  'Us  was  our  country,  the  black  coast  loom- 
ing up  in  the  fog,  and  which  was  terminated  by  a  little  red  light, — 
the  revolving  light  of  Gravosa.  The  stillness  on  the  shore  aston- 
ished me,  nevertheless.  There  was  no  sound  save  that  of  the  rol- 
ling surf,  a  continuous  rattling  of  wet  sea-drift,  and  none  of  the 
bustle  which  the  most  cautious  crowd  makes,  among  which  a  clat- 
tering of  arms,  a  quick,  suppressed  breathing,  is  always  heard. 

"  I  see  our  men !  "  said  San  Giorgio,  in  a  low  voice,  near  me. 

We  perceived,  as  we  sprang  ashore,  that  what  we  had  taken  for 
the  king's  volunteers  were  clusters  of  cactus,  and  Barbary  fig- 
trees,  standing  in  a  row  along  the  shore.  I  advance.  There  is 
no  one,  only  marks  of  footsteps  and  hollows  in  the  sand.  I  say  to 
the  marquis,  "  It  is  suspicious.  Let  us  go  on  board  again."  Unfor- 
tunately the  Parisians  arrived  ;  and  how  could  we  keep  them  away  ? 
for  they  were  scattered  all  over  the  coast,  searching  the  bushes  and 
thickets.  Suddenly  a  line  of  fire  and  a  rolling  of  musketry  startle 
us. 

The  crj'  goes  up,  "  Treachery  I  treachery !  Away !  "  And  we 
hasten  to  the  boats.  There  was  a  regular  stampede  among  our 
men,  who  huddled  together  like  a  herd  of  frightened  cattle,  jos- 
tling each  other,  splashing  the  mud  about,  and  losing  their  bearing. 
Then  came  one  moment  of  ugly  panic,  lighted  by  the  rising  moon, 
which  showed  us  our  English  seamen  escaping  to  the  steamer  as 
fast  as  their  oars  could  carry  them.  But  it  did  not  last  a  great 
while.  Hezeta  sprang  forward  the  first,  with  a  revolver  in  his  hand : 
"  Onward !  onward  I  "  What  a  voice  !  it  made  the  whole  beach 
resound.  We  throw  ourselves  behind  him,  fifty  against  an  army. 
There  was  nothing  else  to  do  but  to  die.  It  is  what  all  our  men 
did  with  great  courage.  Pozzo,  De  Melida,  little  De  Soris  (your 
lover  of  last  year),  and  Henri  de  Trebigne,  who  shouted  to  me  in 
the  midst  of  the  fray,  "  Say,  Herbert,  this  needs  guzlas ! "  and 
Jean  de  Veliko,  who,  while  fighting,  sang  "  La  Rodoitza  "  at  the  top 
of  his  voice,  —  all  fell.  I  saw  them  on  the  beach,  lying  in  the  sand, 
with  their  faces  turned  to  the  sky.  And  there  the  waves  coming  in 
will  bury  them,  the  beautiful  dancers  of  our  ball.  Less  fortunate 
than  our  comrades,  the  marquis  and  myself  —  who  alone  survived 
that  hail  of  bullets  —  were  taken,  blindfolded,  and  bound,  and  car- 
ried up  to  Ragusa  on  mules ;  your  Herbert  growling  with  powerless 


292  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

rage,  while  Hezeta,  who  was  very  calm,  said,  "  It  was  fated.  I 
knew  it."  Strange  man  !  How  could  he  know  that  we  should  be 
betrayed,  given  over,  and  received  on  landing  by  pointed  guns  and 
quantities  of  grape-shot  ?  And,  if  he  knew  it,  why  did  he  lead  us 
there .>  Well,  it  was  a  failure, —a  game  to  attempt  again  with 
more  precautions. 

I  can  understand  now  by  your  dear  letters,  which  I  cannot 
weary  of  reading  again  and  again,  why  the  orders  regarding  us 
were  delayed,  and  the  reason  for  these  promenades  of  black  robes 
in  the  citadel,  this  bargaining  for  our  lives,  these  ups  and  downs 
and  waitings.  The  wretches  were  treating  us  as  hostages,  hoping 
that  the  king,  who  did  not  wish  to  renounce  the  throne  for  hun- 
dreds of  millions,  would  yield  before  the  sacrifice  of  two  of  his  fol- 
lowers. And  you  are  angry,  my  darling,  and  astonished,  —  blinded 
by  your  tenderness,  —  because  my  father  did  not  say  a  word  in 
favor  of  his  son.  But  could  a  Rosen  be  guilty  of  such  cowardice  ? 
He  does  not  love  me  any  the  less,  poor  old  man ;  and  my  death 
will  be  a  terrible  blow  to  him.  As  for  our  sovereigns,  whom  you 
accuse  of  cruelty,  we  have  not  been  able  to  judge  them  from  the 
high  point  of  view  which  serves  them  in  governing  men.  They 
have  duties  and  rights  different  from  other  men.  Ah !  what  fine 
things  Meraut  could  say  to  you  about  this !  I  feel  them,  but  cannot 
express  them.  My  jaws  are  too  stiff :  every  thing  remains  in  my 
mouth,  and  will  not  come  out.  How  many  times  this  has  annoyed 
me  before  you  whom  I  love  so  much,  and  to  whom  I  have  never 
been  able  to  tell  it!  Even  here,  separated  from  you  by  so  many 
leagues  and  big  bars  of  iron,  the  thought  of  your  pretty,  gray,  Pari- 
sian eyes,  and  your  mischievous  mouth  underneath  your  little  nose, 
which  you  puckered  up  to  tease  me,  intimidates  and  paralyzes  me. 

And  yet,  before  leaving  you  forever,  I  must  make  you  thor- 
oughly understand  for  once,  that  I  never  loved  any  one  in  the 
world  but  you ;  that  my  life  began  only  on  the  day  that  I  knew 
you.  Do  you  remember,  Colette  ?  It  was  in  the  store  in  the  Rue 
Royale,  at  that  Tom  Levis's.  We  were  supposed  to  be  there  by 
chance.  You  played  a  piano,  and  sang  something  very  lively, 
which  all  at  once,  I  don't  know  why,  made  me  feel  as  if  I  wanted 
to  weep.  I  was  smitten,  eh  ?  Who  would  have  told  us  that  a 
marriage  in  the  Parisian  style,  made  by  the  agency,  would  become 
a  love-match  ?  And  since,  in  society,  wherever  it  might  be,  I  have 
met  no  woman  so  fascinating  as  my  Colette.     So  you  may  be  easy : 


A   PRISONER.  29.-? 

you  are  still  here  with  me,  though  absent.  The  thought  of  your 
])retty  face  keeps  me  in  good  spirits.  I  laugh  all  alone  to  myself 
when  I  think  of  it.  It  is  true  you  always  inspired  me  with  a  desire 
to  laugh,  though  kindly.  Still,  at  this  moment,  our  situation  is  ter- 
rible, especially  the  manner  in  which  it  is  put  before  us.  He- 
zeta  and  I  are  in  the  chapel ;  that  is  to  say,  they  have  erected  an 
altar  for  our  last  mass  in  the  little  cell  with  rough  walls,  have 
placed  a  coffin  before  each  bed,  and  have  hung  up  placards  with  the 
words,  "  Death,  death  1 "  written  on  them.  In  spite  of  all,  my  room 
seems  lively  to  me.  I  escape  these  funereal  threats  in  thinking 
of  my  Colette.  And,  when  I  raise  myself  up  to  our  air-holes,  this 
charming  country,  —  the  road  which  descends  from  Ragusa  to  Gra- 
vosa,  and  the  aloes  and  cactus  against  the  sky  or  the  blue  sea,  —  all 
remind  me  of  our  wedding-journey,  the  Corniche  road  from  Monaco 
to  Monte-Carlo,  and  the  bells  of  the  mules  which  bore  us  along  in 
our  happiness,  that  rang  out  as  merrily  as  they.  O  my  little 
wife !  how  pretty  you  looked,  darling  traveller  with  whom  I  would 
have  journeyed  longer ! 

You  see  that  your  image  remains  and  triumphs  everywhere,  even 
on  the  threshold  of  death,  —  in  death  itself:  for  I  wish  to  keep 
it  in  a  scapulary  on  my  bosom  yonder  at  the  seaport,  where  they 
are  to  take  us  in  a  few  hours;  and  it  will  enable  me  to  fall  with  a 
smile  on  my  lips.  Therefore,  dear,  do  not  grieve  too  much. 
Think  of  the  little  one ;  think  of  our  child  to  be  born.  Take  care 
of  yourself  for  his  sake ;  and,  when  he  can  understand,  tell  him 
that  I  died  like  a  soldier,  upright,  with  two  names  on  my  lips,  — 
that  of  my  wife  and.  that  of  my  king. 

I  would  have  liked  to  leave  you  a  souvenir  of  the  last  moment ; 
but  they  have  stripped  me  of  every  jewel,  — watch,  charms,  and  pin. 
I  have  nothing  left  but  a  pair  of  white  gloves,  which  I  intended 
for  my  entry  into  Ragusa.  I  shall  put  them  on  presently  in  honor 
of  the  execution ;  and  the  warden  of  the  prison  promised  me  to 
send  them  to  you  when  all  was  over. 

Then  farewell,  my  darling  Colette !  Do  not  weep,  I  beg  of  you, 
although  the  tears  are  blinding  me.  Console  my  father.  Poor 
man !  he  always  scolded  me  because  I  was  late  in  obeying  orders. 
I  shall  not  come  at  all  now.  Farewell!  farewell!  Yet  I  had  so 
many  things  to  say  to  you  !  But,  no :  I  must  die.  What  a  fate ! 
Farewell,  Colette  I 

Herbert  de  Rosen. 


294  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

A   DiNoOMENT. 

"There  is  one  way  left,  sire." 

"  Speak,  my  dear  M^raut.    I  am  ready  for  every  thing." 

M^raut  hesitated  to  answer.  What  he  was  going  to 
say  appeared  to  him  too  grave,  and  out  of  place  in  this 
billiard-hall,  where  the  king  had  brought  him  for  a  game 
after  breakfast.  But  the  singular  irony  which  presides 
over  the  destiny  of  dethroned  sovereigns  willed  that  it 
should  be  before  the  green  cloth  over  which  the  balls 
rolled  with  a  sinister  and  hollow  sound  in  the  silence  and 
mourning  in  the  house  at  Saint  Mand^,  that  the  fate  of 
the  royal  race  of  Illyria  should  be  decided. 

"Well?"  asked  Christian  II.,  leaning  forward  to  reach 
the  ball. 

"  Well,  your  Majesty  "  — 

He  waited  till  the  king  had  made  his  carrom,  which 
the  councillor  Boscovich  had  devoutly  scored,  before  con- 
tinuing, with  a  shade  of  embarrassment,  — 

"  The  people  of  Illyria  are  like  all  nations,  sire.  They 
like  success  and  strength  ;  and  I  fear  that  the  fatal  result 
of  our  last  enterprise  "  — 

The  king  turned  round  with  a  blush  on  his  cheeks. 

"  I  asked  you  for  the  plain  truth,  my  dear  fellow ;  and 
it  is  useless  for  you  to  dress  it  in  all  these  fine  phrases." 

"  Sire,  you  must  abdicate,"  said  the  Gascon  roughly. 

Christian  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 


A  DENOUMENT.  295 

"Abdicate  what?  I  have  nothing.  A  fine  present  I 
should  make  my  son  !  I  believe  he  would  prefer  a  new 
velocipede  to  this  vague  promise  of  a  crown  in  his 
majority." 

M^raut  cited  the  example  of  the  Queen  of  Galicia. 
She,  too,  abdicated  for  her  son  during  exile ;  and  Don 
Leonce  owes  his  being  on  the  throne  to-day  to  this  abdi- 
cation. 

"  Eighteen  to  twelve,"  said  Christian  brusquely. 
"  Councillor,  you  are  not  scoring." 

Boscovich  leaped  up  hke  a  frightened  hare,  and  sprang 
towards  the  score ;  while  the  king,  with  body  and  mind 
intent,  was  absorbed  in  a  marvellous  "  four-cushion." 

Elys^e  looked  at  him ;  and  his  royalist  faith  was  rudely 
tried  before  this  type  of  a  used-up  dandy,  with  his  slen- 
der throat  very  much  exposed  in  his  open  flannel  vest, 
while  his  eyes,  mouth,  and  nostrils  were  still  tinged  with 
a  jaundice  which  had  kept  him  in  bed  nearly  a  month, 
and  from  which  he  had  but  just  risen.  The  disaster  at 
Gravosa ;  the  gloomy  end  of  all  those  young  men ;  the 
terrible  scenes  to  which  the  trial  of  Herbert  and  Hezeta 
had  given  rise  in  the  little  court  at  Saint  Mand^ ;  Co- 
lette dragging  herself  on  her  knees  before  her  former 
lover  to  obtain  her  husband's  pardon ;  those  days  of  an- 
guish and  waiting,  listening  intently  to  the  horrible 
platoon-firing,  which  he  seemed  to  command  himself; 
and,  besides  this,  anxiety  about  money,  the  first  Pichery 
notes  coming  due ;  and  that  cruelty  of  an  unlucky  des- 
tiny, —  though  he  still  preserved  the  light-heartedness  of 
the  Slavonian,  —  had  physically  affected  him. 

He  stopped  after  his  carrom,  and,  playing  the  white 
with  the  greatest  care,  asked  M^raut,  without  looking  at 
him,— 


296  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

"  What  does  the  queen  say  of  this  project  of  abdica- 
tion?    Have  you  spoken  to  her  about  it?  " 

"Tlie  queen  thinks  as  I  do,  sire." 

"Ah  ! "  said  he  dryly,  with  a  shght  start. 

Strangeness  of  human  nature  !  This  woman,  whom  he 
did  not  love,  whose  defiant  coldness  and  clear  look  he 
feared,  —  the  woman  he  accused  of  having  treated  him  too 
much  like  a  king,  whom  she  bored  by  constantly  remind- 
ing him  of  his  duties  and  prerogatives,  —  made  him  angry 
because  she  no  longer  believed  in  him,  and  abandoned 
him  in  favor  of  the  child.  He  did  not  feel  wounded  in 
his  love,  as  if  he  had  received  one  of  those  blows  which 
strike  to  the  heart,  and  make  one  cry  out,  but  felt  the 
chill  of  a  friend's  treachery,  of  lost  confidence. 

"And  you,  Boscovich,  what  do  you  think  of  it?" 
said  he  quickly,  turning  to  his  councillor,  whose  smooth, 
anxious  face  followed  convulsively  the  motions  of  the 
master's. 

The  botanist  made  pantomimic  Italian  movements 
with  outstretched  arms  and  lowered  head,  uttering  a 
"Who  knows?"  so  timid  and  non-committal,  that  the 
king  could  not  help  laughing. 

"  On  the  opinion  of  our  council,  of  course,"  he  said 
mockingly  through  his  nose,  "we  will  abdicate  when 
they  wish." 

Thereupon  his  Majesty  began  to  push  the  balls  with 
ardor  to  Elys^e's  great  despair,  who  longed  to  go  and 
announce  to  the  queen  the  success  of  a  negotiation 
which  she  would  not  take  charge  of  herself;  for  this 
phantom  of  a  king  was  still  held  in  awe  by  her,  and  it 
was  with  trembling  that  she  laid  her  hand  on  the  crown 
which  he  no  longer  wished. 

The  abdication  took  place  some  time  after  this.     The 


A   DENOUMENT.  297 

head  of  the  civil  and  military  service  stoically  proposed 
the  splendid  galleries  of  the  Hotel  de  Rosen  for  this  cere- 
mony, to  which  it  is  a  custom  to  give  as  much  solemnity 
and  authority  as  possible.  But  the  disaster  at  Gravosa  was 
still  too  recent  for  the  opening  of  these  salons  that  were 
filled  with  the  echoes  of  the  last  _/?/<?.•  it  would  have  been 
too  sad,  and  a  bad  omen  for  the  future  kingdom.  They 
had  to  content  themselves,  therefore,  with  assembling  at 
Saint  Mandt^  a  few  noble  lUyrian  or  French  families 
whose  signature  was  necessary  at  the  bottom  of  an  act 
of  this  importance. 

At  two  o'clock  the  carriages  began  to  arrive.  The  bell 
rang  many  times  in  succession  while  the  guests  slowly 
ascended  the  steps,  over  which  carpeting  was  spread 
from  the  threshold  to  the  bottom.  The  Duke  de  Rosen 
stood  at  the  door  of  the  salon  to  receive  them,  and 
wore  his  close-fitting  military  uniform,  and,  among  the 
crosses  around  his  neck,  the  grand  order  of  Illyria,  which 
he  had  laid  aside  without  saying  a  word  when  he  learned 
the  scandal  of  the  wig-maker  Biscarat  displaying  the 
same  badges  on  his  Figaro  vest.  On  his  arm  and  in 
the  guard  of  his  sword  the  general  had  a  long  new  piece 
of  crape,  and,  what  was  more  significant  than  this  crape, 
was  a  feeble  shaking  of  his  head,  an  unconscious  fashion 
of  always  saying,  "  No,  no,"  which  he  had  shown  since 
the  terrible  debate  in  his  presence  on  the  subject  of  Her- 
bert's pardon,  —  a  debate  in  which  he  energetically  refused 
to  take  part,  in  spite  of  Colette's  prayers  and  the  protest 
of  his  fatherly  tenderness.  It  seemed  as  if  his  little,  shak- 
ing, weasel's  head  bore  the  sorrow  of  this  inhuman  refusal, 
and  that  he  was  condemned  henceforth  to  say  "  No  "  to 
every  impression,  to  every  sentiment,  and  to  life  itself; 
every  thing  being  over  for  him,  and  nothing  having  power 
to  interest  him  after  his  son's  tragic  end. 


298  KINGS  TN  EXrr.E. 

The  Princess  Colette  was  there  too.  wearing  her  widow's 
weeds  with  charming  grace ;  and  the  sorrows  of  her 
widowhood  were  mitigated  by  a  mother's  hopes.  Even 
in  the  midst  of  her  very  sincere  grief,  this  Uttle  creature, 
with  the  soul  of  a  modiste  encumbered  with  trifles,  and 
which  a  stern  fate  had  not  elevated,  found  enough  to 
satisfy  her,  thanks  to  the  child  !  in  a  quantity  of  coquet- 
tish vanities  and  furbelows.  The  ribbons,  laces,  and  the 
splendid  trousseau  which  she  had  embroidered  with  a 
cipher,  an  original  design,  under  her  princely  crown, 
served  as  a  diversion  to  her  sadness.  The  baby  would 
be  called  Wenceslas  or  Witold,  or  Wilhelmina  if  it  were 
a  girl ;  but  the  name  should  certainly  begin  with  a  W, 
because  it  is  an  aristocratic  letter,  pretty  to  trace  on 
linen. 

She  was  explaining  this  to  Madame  de  Silvis,  when,  after 
a  blow  from  a  halberd,  the  door  was  thrown  wide  open 
to  announce  the  Prince  and  Princess  de  Tr^bigne,  De 
Soris,  the  Duke  de  San  Giorgio,  the  Duchess  de  M^lida, 
Counts  Pozzo,  Miremont,  and  V^liko.  One  might  have 
called  it  a  list,  uttered  in  a  loud  voice  and  echoed  back 
from  the  shore  covered  with  blood,  of  all  the  young  vic- 
tims who  fell  at  Gravosa.  And,  worst  of  all,  what  was  to 
give  the  ceremony  a  fatal,  funereal  aspect  in  spite  of  the 
precautions  taken,  —  the  sumptuous  livery  and  the  hang- 
ings put  up  for  the  occasion,  —  the  guests  were  also  in 
deep  mourning,  with  black  gloves,  and  dressed  in  those 
stiff  woollen  stuffs  so  gloomy  to  the  eye,  and  which  restrain 
a  woman's  gestures  and  movements.  It  was  the  mourning 
of  old  men,  of  fathers,  and  mothers,  who  assumed  it  with 
deeper  pain  and  less  resignation  than  the  others.  Many 
of  these  unfortunates  were  coming  out  for  the  first  time 
since  the  catastrophe,  torn  from  their  solitude  and  their 


g,  gentlemen!"     Page  299. 


A   DENOUMENT.  igg 

seclusion  by  their  devotion  to  the  dynasty.  They  drew 
themselves  up  on  entering,  and  summoned  all  their  cour- 
age :  but,  while  looking  at  one  another,  they  were  gloomy 
mirrors  of  the  same  grief;  and  as  they  stood  with  bowed 
heads,  their  shoulders  contracted  and  shuddering,  they 
felt  rising  to  their  own  eyes  the  tears  they  saw  in  others, 
and  on  their  own  lips  the  sigh  that  was  with  difficulty  re- 
pressed on  those  at  their  side ;  and  soon  a  nervous  conta- 
gion overcame  them,  and  filled  the  sa/on  with  a  prolonged 
sob,  broken  with  cries  and  stifled  groans.  The  old  man 
Rosen  was  the  only  one  who  did  not  weep ;  and,  drawing 
up  his  tall,  inflexible  figure,  he  continued  to  make  the 
pitiless  sign,  "  No,  no  :  he  must  die." 

In  the  evening,  at  the  Caf^  de  Londres,  H.R.H.  the 
Prince  d'Axel,  who  was  invited  and  agreed  to  come  and 
sign  the  abdication,  told  that  it  seemed  to  him  that  he 
was  at  a  first-class  funeral,  with  all  the  family  united,  wait- 
ing for  the  body  to  be  carried  out.  It  is  true  the  prince 
royal  made  a  sad  figure  as  he  entered.  He  felt  chilled 
and  embarrassed  by  this  silence  and  despair,  and  looked 
with  terror  at  all  these  myths,  when  he  perceived  the 
little  Princess  de  Rosen.  He  quickly  went  and  took  a 
seat  near  her,  curious  to  know  the  heroine  of  the  famous 
breakfast  at  Quai  d'Orsay ;  and  while  Colette,  who  was 
very  much  flattered  at  the  attention,  received  his  Highness 
with  a  mournful,  sentimental  smile,  she  little  suspected 
that  the  veiled  and  sea-green  eyes,  as  he  leaned  over  her, 
were  taking  the  exact  measure  of  a  baker-boy's  costume 
closely  fitting  her  attractive  person. 

"  The  king,  gentlemen  !  " 

Christian  II.,  who  was  very  pale  and  visibly  anxious, 
entered  first,  holding  his  son  by  the  hand.  The  little 
prince  showed  a  power  of  command  which  became  him 
20 


300  AVyaS  IN  EXILE. 

well,  and  was  increased  by  the  black  jacket  and  the  pan- 
taloons which  he  wore  for  the  first  time  with  a  certain 
pride,  a  serious  grace  of  adolescence.  The  queen  canae 
afterwards,  very  beautiful  in  an  elegant  mauve  dress  cov- 
ered with  laces,  too  sincere  to  conceal  her  joy,  which 
shone  as  bright  in  the  midst  of  the  surrounding  gloom  as 
her  light  dress  by  tlie  side  of  the  mourning  garments.  She 
was  so  happy,  so  sclfislily  happy,  that  she  did  not  come 
down  a  moment  to  the  sublime  distress  which  surrounded 
her  any  more  than  she  saw  the  chilly  garden,  the  mist  on 
the  window-panes,  and  the  dark,  lowering  clouds  of  All 
Saints'  week  scurrying  across  a  sky  heavy  with  fog.  The 
day  seemed  bright  and  warm  to  her ;  so  true  is  it  that  all 
is  in  ourselves,  and  that  the  outside  world  is  transformed 
and  colored  with  the  thousand  shades  of  our  passions. 

Christian  II.  placed  himself  before  the  mantle-piece  in 
the  middle  of  the  salon,  having  the  Count  of  Zara  at  his 
right,  and  the  queen  at  his  left.  A  little  farther  on,  Bos- 
covich,  in  the  ermine  of  his  Aulic  councillor's  robe,  sat 
at  a  little  writing-table.  Every  one  being  seated,  the 
king  spoke  very  low,  to  say  that  he  was  ready  to  sign  his 
abdication,  and  to  let  his  subjects  know  the  motive. 
Then  Boscovich  rose,  and  with  his  little,  sharp,  stuttering 
voice,  read  Christian's  manifesto  to  the  nation,  —  the 
rapid  history,  with  brilliant  passages,  of  the  early  hopes 
of  the  kingdom,  the  disappointments  and  misunderstand- 
ings that  followed,  and,  finally,  the  king's  resolution  to 
withdraw  from  public  affairs,  and  to  trust  his  son  to  the 
generosity  of  the  Illyrian  people.  This  short  letter,  in 
which  Elys^e's  pen  kft  its  mark,  was  so  poorly  read, 
like  a  wearisome  nomenclature  in  botany,  that  it  allowed 
one  to  reflect  and  to  seize  all  there  was  that  was  vain 
and  open   to  derision   in  tliis   abdication   of  an  exiled 


A   DENOUMENT.  2,0\ 

sovereign,  this  transmission  of  power  which  did  not  exist, 
and  rights  denied  and  unrecognized.  The  act  itself,  read 
afterwards  by  the  king,  was  framed  thus  :  — 

"I,  Christian  II.,  King  of  Illyria  and  Dalmatia,  Grand  Duke 
of  Bosnia  and  Herzegovinia,  &c.,  declare,  that  of  my  own  free  will, 
and  without  yielding  to  any  foreign  pressure,  T  bequeath  and  con- 
vey to  my  son  Charles  Alexis  Leopold,  Count  of  Goetz  and  Zara, 
all  my  political  rights  ;  reserving  only  my  civil  rights  over  him  as 
a  father  and  guardian." 

Immediately,  at  a  sign  from  the  Duke  de  Rosen,  all 
the  by-standers  approached  the  table  to  sign.  For 
some  moments  there  was  a  commotion,  a  rustling 
of  dresses,  with  long  waits  and  pauses  caused  by  the 
ceremony,  during  which  one  heard  a  scratching  of 
guided  and  trembling  pens.  Then  the  hand-kissing 
began. 

Christian  II.  led  off  the  march,  and,  acquitting  himself 
of  that  difficult  duty,  the  homage  of  a  father  to  his 
child,  kissed  the  end  of  his  delicate  fingers  with  more 
airy  grace  than  respect.  The  queen,  on  the  contrary, 
kissed  with  a  passionate,  almost  religious,  outburst :  the 
protectress  and  mother  became  the  humble  subject. 
After  this,  it  was  Prince  d'Axel's  turn  ;  then  came  all  the 
great  lords,  who  filed  by  in  order  of  rank,  which  the  little 
king  began  to  think  very  tedious,  notwithstanding  the 
charming  dignity  revealed  in  his  honest  eyes  and  ex- 
tended hand,  which  was  small  and  white,  and  strongly 
veined,  with  the  square  nails  of  a  child  who  still  keeps  at 
play,  with  wrists  rather  strong  and  out  of  proportion,  be- 
cause of  his  quick  growth.  These  noblemen,  although 
gloomily  absorbed  in  their  sorrow,  considered  the  occa- 
sion of  so  much  moment,  that  they  were  not  inclined  to 
lose  their  turn,  which  was  reserved  for  them  according  to 


302  AV^VGS  IN  EXILE. 

their  title  and  the  number  of  jewels  in  their  crown  : 
therefore,  as  Mdraut  was  hastening  to  his  pupil,  he  sud- 
denly stopped  on  hearing  a  '^Monsieur,  s'il  vous  plait,'' 
which  made  him  draw  back,  and  brought  him  face  to 
face  with  the  indignant  Prince  de  Tre'bigne,  a  terribly 
asthmatic  old  man,  who  could  hardly  breathe  ;  and  whose 
eyes  were  dilated,  and  as  round  as  a  ball,  as  if  he  breathed 
only  through  them.  Elysde,  who  worshipped  tradition, 
moved  aside  respectfully  to  allow  this  wreck  of  the  tomb 
to  pass,  and  was  the  last  to  take  part  in  the  hand-kissing. 
As  he  was  withdrawing,  Frt^d^rique,  who  was  standing 
near  her  son,  as  one  sees  the  mothers  of  brides  standing 
in  the  vestry  to  receive  the  last  words  of  homage  and 
the  last  smiles,  said  to  him  in  a  low  voice,  and  exultant, 
nervous  manner,  as  he  passed,  — 

"  It  is  done  ! " 

She  said  this  in  a  tone  of  indescribable  relief,  and  a 
fulness  of  joy  that  was  almost  wild. 

"  It  is  done  ! "  that  is,  the  diadem  was  saved  from 
trade  and  disgrace.  She  could  now  sleep,  breathe,  and 
live,  relieved  of  the  continual  anxiety  which  forewarned 
her  of  catastrophes,  and  which  might  have  enabled  her 
to  say,  as  Hezeta  said  at  every  fatal  denoiiment,  "  I  knew 
it !  "  Her  son  would  not  be  dethroned  :  he  would  be  a 
king.  A  king  !  He  was  a  king  already  in  his  majestic 
bearing,  and  his  cordial  but  haughty  kindness. 

But,  when  the  ceremony  was  concluded,  the  child- 
nature  gained  the  ascendency,  and  Leopold  V.  sprang 
joyously  towards  the  elder  Jean  de  V^liko  to  tell  him  the 
great  news. 

"  Do  you  know,  godfather,  I  have  a  pony  —  a  pretty 
little  pony  —  all  to  myself?  The  general,  and  mamma 
too,  will  teach  me  to  mount." 


A   DENOOmENT.  303 

People  gathered  eagerly  around  him,  bowing  with  looks 
of  adoration  ;  while  Christian,  who  was  somewhat  alone, 
had  a  strange,  indefinable  feeUng,  like  a  light,  chilly 
sensation  about  his  head,  where  the  crown  had  rested. 
Positively  he  was  becoming  giddy.  Yet  he  had  longed 
for  this  hour,  and  cursed  the  responsibilities  of  his  situa- 
tion more  than  another  would  have  done.  Then  why  was 
he  so  uncomfortable  and  sad,  now  that  he  saw  the  shore 
recede  from  him,  and  the  road  open  into  new  perspec- 
tives ? 

"  Ah,  well,  my  poor  Christian  !  I  think  they  must  have 
given  you  your  ouistiti,^''  said  Prince  d'Axel,  who,  in  a 
low  voice,  was  consoling  him  in  his  own  way.  "  You  are 
in  luck.  How  happy  I  should  be  if  as  much  came  to 
me,  —  if  I  were  spared  the  necessity  of  leaving  this 
beautiful  Paris  to  go  and  reign  over  my  people  of  seals 
with  white  bellies." 

He  continued  in  the  same  strain  for  a  moment :  then, 
profiting  by  the  confusion  and  inattention  of  the  com- 
pany, both  disappeared.  The  queen  saw  them  go  out, 
and  heard  the  phaeton,  whose  light  wheels  once  never 
went  by  without  passing  over  her  heart,  roll  through  the 
court-yard. 

But  what  mattered  it  to  her  now  ?  It  was  no  longer 
the  King  of  lUyria  whom  those  Parisian  women  were 
taking  from  her. 

The  day  after  the  affair  at  Gravosa,  Christian,  in  the 
first  moment  of  his  shame,  swore  not  to  see  Sephora 
again.  While  he  was  in  bed,  and  afraid  of  sickness,  as  a 
Southerner  always  is,  he  only  thought  of  his  mistress  to 
curse  her,  and  to  blame  her  morally  for  his  faults.  But 
when  convalescent,  and  his  blood  was  livelier,  complete 
idleness,  in  which  memory  mingled  with  fancies  has  so 


304  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

much  power,  changed  his  mood.  He  excused  the 
woman,  though  timidly  at  first,  and  saw  only  a  fatality 
in  what  had  happened,  —  one  of  the  thousand  designs  of 
Providence,  on  whom  Catholics  lay  every  responsibility 
that  wearies  them.  One  day  he  ventured  at  last  to  ask 
Lebeau  if  any  news  had  been  received  from  the  coun- 
tess. For  answer  the  valet  brought  a  quantity  of  notes 
which  had  come  during  his  sickness, — tender,  ardent, 
timid  hilh'ts-ihiix, — a  flock  of  white  turtle-doves  cooing 
her  love  to  him.  Christian's  ardor  was  kindled  by  them ; 
and  he  immediately  answered  them  in  his  bed,  impatient 
to  resume,  as  soon  as  he  was  weU,  the  romance  inter- 
rupted at  Fontainebleau. 

Meanwhile,  J.  Tom  Levis  and  his  wife  were  spending 
a  pleasant  vacation  in  their  hotel  in  Messina  Avenue. 
The  foreigners'  agent  could  not  longer  endure  the  ennui 
of  his  retirement  at  Courbevoie.  He  missed  a  business- 
life  and  trade,  and  especially  Sephora's  admiration.  In 
short,  he  was  afflicted  with  jealousy,  —  a  ferocious,  sting- 
ing, persistent  jealousy,  —  like  a  stoppage  in  the  throat 
which  one  believes  has  gone,  but  which  all  at  once  gives 
one  a  sharp  prick.  And  he  had  not  the  privilege  of  com- 
plaining, and  saying  to  some  one,  whoever  it  might  be, 
"Just  look,  and  see  what  is  in  my  throat." 

Unfortunately  Tom  Levis  was  caught  in  his  own  trap, 
and  was  the  victim,  as  well  as  the  inventor,  of  the  great 
scheme.  Sephora's  journey  to  Fontainebleau  disturbed 
him  more  than  all.  He  tried  several  times  to  return  to  the 
subject ;  but  she  checked  him  with  a  most  natural  laugh. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  my  poor  Tom  ?  What 
a  face  ! " 

Then  he  was  obliged  to  laugh  also,  understanding  that 
there  could  be  nothing  between  them  but  fun  and  hoax- 


A  DENOUMENT.  305 

ing,  and  that  Sephora's  fancy,  which  was  that  of  a  girl 
for  a  queue-rouge,  would  quickly  die  out  if  she  beheved 
him  jealous,  sentimental,  or  " canulant"  like  the  rest ; 
but  at  heart  he  suffered,  and  became  weary  of  living 
away  from  her,  and  even  wrote  verses  about  her.  Yes, 
the  man  in  the  cab,  the  imaginative  Narcissus,  found  this 
relief  from  his  anxiety,  —  a  poem  to  Sephora,  one  of  those 
odd  efforts  of  pretentious  ignorance,  such  as  they  confis- 
cate at  Mazas  from  the  table  of  those  confined  there. 
Positively,  if  Cliiistian  11.  had  not  fallen  ill,  J.  Tom  Levis 
would  have  become  so. 

I  leave  you  to  think  of  the  joy  that  the  buffoon  and 
his  dear  one  felt  on  meeting  again,  and  living  together  a 
few  weeks.  Tom  danced  the  maddest  jigs,  cut  the 
queerest  figures  on  the  carpet.  One  would  have  taken 
him  for  a  monkey  in  a  happy  mood,  an  Auriol  set  free 
to  gambol  about  the  house.  Sephora  was  convulsed  with 
laughter,  though  rather  embarrassed  on  account  of  the 
servants,  with  whom  "  Madame's  husband  "  was  in  ex- 
treme disfavor.  The  steward  declared,  that,  if  "  Mad- 
ame's husband"  were  to  eat  at  table,  he  would  never  con- 
sent to  serve  him ;  and  as  he  was  an  exceptional  steward, 
obtained  and  chosen  by  the  king,  she  did  not  insist,  but 
had  her  meals  sent  up  to  her  boudoir  by  the  femme- 
de-chambre.  And,  when  there  was  a  call  from  Wattelet 
or  Prince  d'Axel,  J.  Tom  disappeared  in  a  dressing- 
room.  A  husband  was  never  seen  at  such  a  time ;  but 
he  adored  his  wife,  and  had  her  all  alone  to  himself 
amid  surroundings  that  made  her  appear  infinitely  pret- 
tier. He  was,  in  short,  the  happiest  of  the  party,  whom 
the  delays  and  backward  payments  began  to  fill  with 
some  anxiety.  They  felt  that  there  was  a  difficulty,  a 
drawback  to  the  affair  which  started  so  well.     The  king 


3o6  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

paid  none  of  the  notes  that  were  due,  and  constantly 
made  new  ones,  to  the  great  horror  of  Pichery  and  father 
Leemans.  Lebeau  tried  to  encourage  them  :  "  Patience, 
patience.  He  will  come  to  it :  it  is  predestined."  But 
he  furnished  nothing,  and  the  rest  piled  reams  of  Illyrian 
paper  into  their  portfolios.  The  poor  "  father,"  who  no 
longer  had  his  immovable  assurance,  went  to  the  Rue 
de  Messina  every  morning  to  see  his  daughter  and  son- 
in-law,  and  to  strengthen  his  courage. 

"Then  you  think  that  we  shall  succeed?  "he  asked, 
and  resigned  himself  to  pay  out  more  money,  and  to 
keep  paying  it  out ;  since  the  only  way  to  keep  track  of 
his  money  was  to  send  more  after  it. 

One  afternoon  the  countess,  while  dressing  to  go  to 
the  Bois,  flitted  to  and  fro  from  her  chamber  to  her 
dressing-room  under  the  paternal  eye  of  J.  Tom,  who, 
with  a  cigar  between  his  teeth,  was  lolling  in  an  easy 
chair,  enjoying  the  pleasing  sight  of  a  woman  making 
her  toilet,  putting  on  her  gloves  before  the  Psyche,  and 
trying  her  carriage  poses.  She  was  charming  with  her 
hat  on,  and  her  veil  coming  just  to  her  eyes,  and  dressed 
in  an  autumn  suit,  which  was  rather  heavy  and  wintry 
looking ;  and  the  clinking  of  her  bracelets,  the  jingling  of 
jet  on  her  mantle,  responded  to  the  luxurious  sounds 
from  the  carriage  waiting  beneath  her  windows,  —  the 
clattering  of  the  harness,  the  stamping  of  the  horses,  all 
belonging  to  the  establishment  and  bearing  the  arms  of 
Illyria.  She  was  to  take  Tom  with  her,  and  drive  around 
the  lake,  in  the  first  Parisian  day  of  the  season,  under  the 
low  sky,  which  sets  off  new  fashions  so  finely,  and  faces 
that  look  rested  after  a  long  stay  out  of  town.  Tom, 
who  was  gotten  up  in  very  elegant  style,  like  a  real  Eng- 
lish swell,  was  delighted  with  the  idea  of  having  a  little 


A   D^NOfjMENT.  307 

pleasure  on  the  sly  in  this  drive  in  the  coup6,  screened 
from  view,  by  the  side  of  his  pretty  countess. 

Madame  is  ready,  and  they  are  about  to  start.  She 
gives  a  last  look  in  the  mirror.  Let  us  go.  But  suddenly 
the  lower-hall  door  opens,  and  the  bell  is  rung  hurriedly. 
"  The  king  !  "  While  the  husband  runs  into  the  dress- 
ing-room, with  his  eyes  revolving  in  a  terrible  manner, 
Sephora  hastens  to  the  window  just  in  time  to  see  Chris- 
tian II.  spring  up  the  steps  with  the  air  of  a  conqueror. 
He  soars  as  though  borne  along  on  wings.  "  How 
happy  she  will  be  !  "  he  says  to  himself  as  he  ascends. 

The  lovely  woman  understands  that  something  new 
has  happened,  and  prepares  herself.  As  a  beginning, 
she  gives  a  cry  of  surprise  and  joyous  emotion  when  she 
sees  him,  falls  into  his  arms,  and  allows  him  to  support 
her  to  a  caiiseuse,  before  which  he  kneels. 

"Yes  :  I !  it  is  I,  and  forever." 

She  looks  at  him  with  eyes  dilated,  and  excited  with 
love  and  hope ;  and  he,  immersed,  absorbed,  in  this 
look :  — 

"  It  is  done.  There  is  no  longer  a  king  of  lUyria,  only 
a  man  who  wishes  to  pass  his  life  in  loving  you." 

"  It  is  too  beautiful.     I  don't  dare  believe  it." 

"  There  !  read  that." 

She  took  the  parchment,  and  unfolded  it  slowly. 

"  Then,  it  is  true,  my  Christian,  you  have  renounced  ?  " 

"  Better  than  that." 

And,  while  she  ran  over  the  wording  of  the  act  of  re- 
nunciation, he  stood  twirling  his  mustache,  looking  at 
Sephora  with  a  triumphant  expression.  Then,  finding 
that  she  was  slow  to  understand,  he  explained  to  her 
the  difference  between  renouncing  and  abdicating  ;  and 
that  he  would  be  quite  as  free,  relieved  from  duties  and 


308  A'JA'GS  IN  EXILE. 

responsibilities,  without  in  any  way  pledging  his  son's 
future.  Only  the  money  —  But  they  did  not  need  so 
many  millions  to  be  happy. 

She  read  no  more,  and  listened  to  him  with  a  bitter 
smile,  showing  her  pretty  teeth  ;  for  she  opened  her  mouth 
wide,  as  if  the  better  to  seize  what  he  was  saying.  She 
understood,  however,  —  oh,  yes  !  saw  very  plainly  the 
crumbling  away  of  all  their  ambition,  and  the  piles  of 
louis  already  put  in  the  affair ;  Leemans's  and  Pichery's 
anger,  and  that  of  the  party  cheated  by  the  false  dealing 
of  this  simpleton.  She  thought  of  the  many  useless 
sacrifices  she  had  made,  of  her  dreadful  Hfe  the  past  six 
months,  when  she  was  heart-sick  of  dissimulation  and 
inanity ;  of  her  poor  Tom  holding  his  breath  in  the 
dressing-room,  while  the  other  opposite  her  was  awaiting 
an  outburst  of  tenderness,  sure  of  being  loved,  a  con- 
queror, irresistible  and  crushing.  It  was  so  droll,  and 
the  irony  so  real  and  fierce,  that  she  rose,  bursting  into 
uncontrollable  laughter,  —  insulting,  mocking  laughter,  — 
which  sent  a  rapid  flush  to  her  face,  the  dregs  of  her 
gross  nature  being  stirred ;  and  passing  before  Christian, 
who  was  stunned,  she  cried,  "Fool,  begone  !  "  then  ran, 
and  locked  herself  in  her  room. 

Without  a  sou,  crown,  wife,  or  mistress,  Christian  made 
a  singular  figure  as  he  descended  the  stairs. 


THE  LITTLE  ICING.  369 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE  UTTLE   KING. 

O  MAGIC  of  words  !  As  if  there  were  cabalistic  power 
in  the  four  letters  of  the  word  "king,"  M^raut's  pupil 
was  transformed  as  soon  as  he  was  no  longer  called  Count 
Zara,  but  Leopold  V.  The  child,  who  was  industrious 
and  happy  in  well-doing,  and  as  pliable  as  a  piece  of 
soft  wax,  but  without  any  superiority  of  intelligence,  was 
developing  gradually,  roused  by  a  singular  excitement, 
while  his  body  was  strengthened  by  inward  fire.  His 
natural  idleness  and  desire  to  recline  in  an  arm-chair 
while  they  read  to  him  or  told  him  stories,  his  need  to 
listen  and  live  on  the  thoughts  of  others,  was  changed 
into  an  activity  which  the  games  of  his  age  no  longer 
satisfied.  Old  General  de  Rosen,  who  was  crippled  and 
bent,  had  to  recover  strength  enough  to  give  him  lessons 
in  fencing,  shooting,  and  horsemanship ;  and  nothing 
was  more  touching  than  to  see  every  morning  at  nine 
o'clock,  in  a  clearing  in  the  park,  which  was  enlarged 
into  an  arena,  the  quondam  pandour,  in  a  blue  coat  and 
with  a  whip  in  his  hand,  fulfiUing  the  functions  of  a  rider 
with  the  air  of  an  old  Franconi,  always  respectful  to  the 
king  while  correcting  the  blunders  of  the  pupil. 

The  little  Leopold  trotted  and  galloped,  looking  seri- 
ous and  proud,  paying  attention  to  the  shghtest  orders ; 
while  the  queen  looked  on  from  the  steps,  uttering  a 
remark  now  and  then,  or  a  word   of  advice.     "  Sit  up 


3IO  A'/A'CS  IN  EXILE. 

Straight,  sire,"  "  Give  him  his  rein ; "  and  sometimes,  to 
make  herself  better  understood,  she  would  mount  her- 
self, and  add  example  to  her  words.  How  happy  she 
was  on  the  day  when,  her  mare  keeping  step  with  the 
prince's  pony,  both  ventured  into  the  neighboring  wood, 
the  figure  of  the  horsewoman  rising  above  that  of  the 
child  !  and,  far  from  feeling  a  mother's  fear,  she  pointed 
out  the  road  to  her  son,  and,  spurring  the  beasts  into  a 
vigorous  bound,  raced  with  him  as  far  as  Joinville. 

There  was  a  change  in  her,  too,  since  the  abdication. 
With  her  superstitious  faith  in  divine  right,  she  believed 
that  henceforth  the  title  of  king  would  protect  the  child 
and  defend  him.  Her  tenderness,  which  was  still  as 
strong  and  deep,  was  no  longer  manifested  in  maternal 
ways  in  caresses ;  and,  although  she  still  went  into  his 
chamber  at  night,  it  was  no  longer  to  see  Zara  put  to 
bed,  and  to  tuck  up  his  bedclothes.  A  valet-de-chambre 
had  charge  of  all  this  now,  as  if  Fr^d^rique  feared  to 
make  her  son  effeminate,  and  to  dwarf  his  power  as  a 
man  by  keeping  him  in  her  too  tender  hands.  She 
came  only  to  hear  him  say  that  beautiful  prayer  from  the 
"  Book  for  Kings  "  which  Father  Alph^e  taught  him  :  — 

"  O  Lord,  who  art  my  God !  you  have  placed  your  servant  on  the 
throne  ;  but  I  am  a  child  that  does  not  know  how  to  guide  himself, 
yet  has  charge  of  the  people  you  have  chosen.  Give  me,  therefore, 
wisdom  and  intelligence." 

The  little  voice  of  the  prince  rang  out  firm  and  clear 
with  a  tone  of  authority  and  conviction,  that  was  touch- 
ing when  one  thought  of  his  exile  in  this  wretched 
suburb,  and  the  hypothetical  throne  far  beyond  the  seas. 
But  her  Leopold  already  reigned  in  Fr^d^rique's  belief; 
and  in  her  evening  kiss  there  was  such  devout  pride, 
and  indefinable  adoration  and  respect,  that  Elyst^e,  sur- 


THE  LITTLE  KING.  311 

prised  at  these  mingled  maternal  sentiments,  was  re- 
minded of  former  Christmas  days  in  his  country,  where 
the  Virgin  sings,  while  rocking  Jesus  in  the  stable,  "  I  am 
your  servant,  and  you  are  my  God." 

Several  months  passed  thus,  —  an  entire  winter  season, 
—  during  which  the  queen  found  but  one  shadow  over 
her  joy,  —  in  her  heaven  which  at  last  was  serene.  And 
M^raut  unconsciously  was  the  cause.  Both  having  had 
the  same  dream,  their  eyes  and  souls  meeting,  and  having 
walked  close  by  each  other's  side  to  the  same  goal,  they 
had  established  between  themselves  a  common  thought 
and  life,  which  all  at  once  embarrassed  Fr^derique, 
without  her  being  able  to  define  the  reason.  When 
alone  with  him,  she  no  longer  abandoned  herself  as 
formerly,  and  was  frightened  at  the  place  which  this 
stranger  held  in  her  most  private  resolves.  Did  she 
divine  the  sentiments  which  agitated  him,  the  ardor 
growing  so  near  her,  increasing  and  becoming  more 
dangerous  day  by  day?  A  woman  does  not  mistake. 
She  would  have  liked  to  shield  and  recover  herself;  but 
how?  In  her  trouble  she  had  recourse  to  the  guide  and 
council  to  whom  every  Catholic  wife  appeals,  —  her  con- 
fessor. 

Father  Alph^e  always  guided  the  queen  when  he  was 
not  running  round  the  country  to  promulgate  royahst 
principles.  One  would  know  the  man  by  looking  at  him. 
In  this  Illyrian  priest  with  a  corsair  face  there  was  the 
blood,  the  bearing,  the  facial  lines,  of  one  of  those  Usco- 
ques,  —  birds  of  rapine  and  tempests,  the  rovers  of  the 
Latin  seas.  A  son  of  a  fisherman  in  the  port  of  Zara, 
brought  up  as  a  sailor,  surrounded  by  nets  and  tar,  he  was 
taken  up  by  the  Franciscans  for  his  pretty  voice ;  and 
from  a  sailor-boy  he  became  a  chorister,  grew  up  at  the 


312  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

convent,  and  was  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  congregation. 
But  there  remained  a  sailor's  ardor  with  the  sea-tan, 
which  the  coolness  of  the  cloistral  stones  had  never  been 
able  to  bleach.  But  this  monk  was  neither  a  bigot  nor 
over- scrupulous,  and  could  do  his  part  with  a  knife ;  and, 
when  politics  made  him  short  of  time,  would  despatch 
in  one  lump  at  morning  the  prayers  for  the  day,  and 
even  those  for  the  next  day,  "  to  get  ahead,"  he  would 
say  seriously.  Devoted  in  his  affections  as  in  his  hatred, 
he  vowed  an  unlimited  admiration  for  the  tutor  intro- 
duced by  him  into  the  house.  Therefore  at  the  first 
avowal  of  the  queen  about  her  troubles  and  scruples,  he 
feigned  not  to  understand  ;  then,  seeing  that  she  insisted, 
he  was  carried  beside  himself,  and  spoke  severely  to  her, 
as  to  an  ordinary  penitent,  —  to  a  wealthy  lace-maker  of 
Ragusa. 

Was  she  not  ashamed  to  mix  up  such  childishness 
with  so  noble  a  cause?  Of  what  did  she  complain? 
Had  she  ever  been  treated  with  lack  of  respect  ?  You 
see,  for  such  foolish  religious  notions,  or  the  coquetry  of 
a  woman  who  thinks  herself  irresistible,  she  would  de- 
prive herself  of  this  man,  whom  God  had  certainly  placed 
in  their  way  to  make  the  cause  of  royalty  triumph.  And 
in  his  seaman's  language  —  his  Italian  emphasis,  which 
was  softened  by  a  sly,  priestly  smile  —  he  added  that  one 
does  not  find  fault  with  a  good  wind  sent  by  heaven : 
one  spreads  sail,  and  speeds  along. 

The  most  upright  woman  will  always  be  weak  before 
such  specious  reasoning.  Conquered  by  the  monk's 
casuistr}',  Fr^d^rique  said  to  herself  that  she  could  not 
deprive  -herself  of  such  an  auxiliary  in  the  cause  of  her 
son.  It  was  her  place  to  guard  herself,  and  keep  strong. 
What  did  she  risk?     She  even  succeeded  in  persuading 


THE  LITTLE  KING.  313 

herself  that  she  was  mistaken  in  Elys^e's  devotion  and 
enthusiastic  friendship.  But  the  truth  was,  he  loved  her 
passionately,  with  a  love  that  was  singular  and  deep, 
which  he  banished  many  a  time,  but  which  came  slowly 
back  through  by-paths,  and  at  last  settled  down  upon 
him  with  the  invading  despotism  of  a  victory.  Till  now 
Elys^e  M^raut  believed  himself  incapable  of  a  tender 
sentiment.  Sometimes,  while  making  royalist  speeches 
in  the  quarter,  some  Bohemian  girl,  without  understand- 
ing a  word  of  his  discourse,  would  fall  madly  in  love  with 
him  for  the  music  of  his  voice,  and  for  the  light  in  his 
flashing  eyes,  and  his  intellectual  brow,  — the  magnetic 
attraction  of  a  Magdalen  for  the  apostles.  He  would 
lean  over  smihng,  receive  what  was  offered,  concealing 
with  gentleness  and  light  affability  the  ineradicable  con- 
tempt for  women  which  is  at  the  bottom  of  every 
Southerner's  nature.  Love  would  have  to  pass  through 
his  strong  head  to  reach  his  heart ;  and  it  was  thus  that 
his  admiration  for  Fr^d^rique's  haughty  type,  and  proud 
endurance  of  patrician  adversity,  had  become  after  a 
while  —  by  living  in  the  same  house  in  the  narrow  life  of 
exile,  and  being  brought  together  every  hour  and  mo- 
ment through  so  much  trouble  shared  together  —  a  real 
passion,  but  a  humble,  discreet  one,  utterly  hopeless, 
content  to  burn  at  a  distance,  like  a  poor  man's  candle 
on  the  lower  step  of  the  altar. 

Life  went  on,  however,  indifferent  to  these  silent 
dramas ;  and  the  first  days  of  September  drew  near.  The 
queen  took  her  usual  after-breakfast  walk  in  the  beauti- 
ful sunlight,  which  was  in  harmony  with  her  happy  state 
of  mind.  She  was  followed  by  the.  duke,  Elys^e,  and 
Madame  de  Silvis,  who  filled  the  place  of  maid  of  honor, 
as  the  little  princess  had  been  dismissed.     All  her  court 


314  KTl^GS  IN  EXTLE. 

Ibllowcd  her  through  the  shady  paths  bordered  with  iv)' 
like  a  Uttle  EngHsh  park.  She  would  turn  round  to 
speak  a  word  or  sentence  with  that  marked  grace  which 
did  not  detract  from  her  feminine  charms.  This  day  she 
v.as  particularly  lively  and  gay.  In  the  morning  she  had 
received  news  from  Illyria,  telling  of  the  excellent  effect 
produced  by  the  abdication,  and  the  name  of  Leopold  V., 
which  was  already  popular  in  country-places. 

Elys^e  M^raut  triumphed. 

"  As  I  told  you,  Duke,  they  are  raving  over  their  little 
king.  Childhood,  you  see,  regenerates  every  one's  ten- 
derness. It  is  like  a  new  religion  we  have  infused  in 
them,  —  a  religion  full  oi  ndiveie  and  fervor." 

And,  tossing  his  long  hair  with  both  hands  with  a  vio- 
lent gesture  peculiar  to  himself,  he  went  into  one  of  those 
eloquent  improvisations  which  transfigured  him,  as  the 
dejected  Arab,  crouching  in  rags  on  the  ground,  be- 
comes unrecognizable  as  soon  as  he  is  on  a  horse. 

"  Here  we  are,"  said  the  marchioness,  in  a  low  voice, 
with  a  wearied  air ;  while  the  queen,  in  order  to  hear  bet- 
ter, seated  herself  on  the  border  of  a  path  in  the  shade 
of  a  weeping-ash.  The  others  stood  respectfully  round 
her ;  but  gradually  the  audience  thinned.  Madame  de 
Silvis  withdrew  first,  ostensibly  to  protest,  as  she  never 
failed  to  do ;  then  they  came  for  the  duke,  who  was 
called  away  by  some  duty.  The  queen  was  left  alone 
with  Elys^e,  who  did  not  perceive  it,  but  continued  his 
discourse  standing  in  the  sunshine,  which  fell  softly  on  his 
noble,  exalted  face,  as  on  the  flat  surface  of  a  hard  rock. 
He  was  handsome  thus,  with  the  beauty  of  intelligence 
and  an  irresistible  power,  which  struck  Fr^d^rique  too 
suddenly  for  her  to  be  able  to  conceal  her  admiration. 
Did  he  see  this  in  her  green  eyes  ?     Did  he  receive  the 


Begone!  begone!      May  1  never  see  thee  again!"     Page  318. 


THE  LITTLE  KING.  315 

shock  which  we  feel  when  too  lively  a  sentiment  is 
brought  near  to  us?  At  tirst  he  stammered,  then 
stopped  short,  all  in  a  tremble,  and  let  fall  on  the  queen's 
head,  which  was  bowed,  and  on  her  golden  hair  flecked 
with  flickering  sunlight,  a  lingering  look  that  was  ardent 
as  a  declaration. 

Fr^derique  felt  the  fire  from  his  eyes  sweep  over  her 
more  blinding  and  scorching  than  the  sun  itself;  but  she 
had  not  strength  to  turn  from  it.  And  when,  frightened 
at  what  was  rising  to  his  lips,  Elys^e  rushed  from  her  sud- 
denly, she  was  so  filled  with  his  magnetic  power,  that  it 
seemed  to  her  as  if  life  were  going  from  her ;  and  she 
had  a  kind  of  moral  swoon,  and  remained  on  the  bench 
fainting  and  overpowered.  Purple  shadows  floated  over 
the  winding  paths.  The  water  rippled  from  the  fountain 
with  a  refreshing  sound  this  beautiful  summer  afternoon. 
In  the  garden,  which  was  all  in  bloom,  only  the  murmur 
of  fluttering  wings  of  tiny  insects  was  heard  above  the 
fragrant  flower-b?,skets,  and  the  sharp  sound  of  the  little 
prince's  rifle,  who  was  firing  at  the  end  of  the  park,  near 
the  wood. 

The  queen  came  to  herself  in  this  calmness,  at  first 
feeling  angry  and  rebellious ;  for  she  felt  hurt  and  insulted 
by  that  look.  Was  it  possible  ?  Was  she  not  dreaming  ? 
She,  the  proud  Fr^d^rique,  who  in  the  intoxication  of 
co\\x\.  fetes  formerly  disdained  the  homage  laid  at  her  feet, 
though  by  the  most  noble  and  most  illustrious,  —  she  who 
kept  her  proud  heart  above  it,  to  abandon  it  to  a  nobody, 
a  son  of  the  people  !  Tears  of  pride  burned  in  her  eyes. 
And  through  her  confused  thoughts  a  prophetic  word  of 
the  elder  Rosen  rang  in  her  ears :  "  The  Bohemia  of 
exile."  Yes  !  only  exile,  with  its  demoralizing,  free  inter- 
course, could  have  made  this  subaltern  dare.  But,  as  she 
21 


3i6  /CINGS  IN  EXILE. 

poured  out  her  scorn  upon  him,  the  remembrance  of  the 
services  he  rendered  her  came  back  to  her  mind.  What 
would  have  become  of  them  without  him  ?  She  remem- 
bered the  emotion  of  their  first  meeting,  and  how  his 
words  revived  her.  Then,  while  the  king  was  away  seek- 
ing his  pleasure,  who  had  taken  the  guidance  of  their 
destiny,  and  repaired  their  blunders  and  crimes?  And 
his  indefatigable,  daily  devotion,  so  much  talent  and 
spirit  and  fine  genius  applied  to  a  self-sacrificing  task, 
without  profit  or  glory  !  The  result  was  this  little  king,  — 
a  real  king,  and  the  future  ruler  of  Illyria,  of  whom  she 
felt  so  proud.  Then,  overcome  with  an  unconquerable 
feeling  of  tenderness  and  gratitude,  and  recollecting  that 
moment  in  the  past  when  at  the  fete  at  Vincennes  she 
leaned  on  Elys^e's  strong  shoulder,  she  closed  her  eyes  as 
on  that  day,  and  gave  herself  up  to  the  blissful  thought  of 
the  great,  devoted  heart  which  she  seemed  to  feel  beat- 
ing near  her. 

Suddenly,  after  a  gun-shot  which  sent  the  birds  flying 
through  the  foliage,  she  heard  a  loud  cry,  —  a  child's  cry, 
—  such  as  mothers  hear  in  their  dreams  during  troubled 
nights  of  anxiety,  —  a  terrible  call  of  distress,  which 
darkened  the  whole  sky,  enlarging  and  changing  the  gar- 
den into  an  immense  scene  of  sorrow.  Hurried  steps 
were  heard  in  the  paths.  The  voice  of  the  tutor,  hoarse 
and  changed,  was  heard  calling  beyond,  near  the  firing. 
Fr^d^rique  reached  the  place  with  one  bound. 

It  was  in  the  cool  shade  of  the  hedge,  in  a  part  of 
the  park  that  was  covered  with  hops  and  climbing  vines, 
and  the  rank  growth  of  the  rich  earth.  Sheets  of  paste- 
board, pierced  with  small,  regular,  and  cruel  holes,  hung 
from  the  trellis.  Fr^d^rique  saw  her  child  lying  mo- 
tionless on  his  back  on  the  ground,  his  face  white,  with 


THE  LITTLE  KING.  317 

a  red  spot  near  the  right  eye,  which  was  closed  and 
wounded,  and  from  which  a  few  drops  of  blood  were 
trickling  like  tears.  Elys^e  was  on  his  knees  near  him, 
calling,  and  wringing  his  hands.  "  It  was  I  !  it  was  I  !  " 
He  was  passing.  His  Highness  wished  him  to  try  his 
arms ;  and,  through  a  frightful  fatality,  the  ball,  rebound- 
ing from  the  iron-work  on  the  trellis  — 

But  the  queen  would  not  listen  to  him.  Without  utter- 
ing a  cry  or  complaint,  filled  only  with  the  protecting 
instinct  of  a  mother,  she  seized  the  child,  and  carried 
him  in  her  arms  to  the  pond.  Then,  motioning  away  the 
servants  of  the  house  who  gathered  around  to  help  her, 
she  leaned  her  knee  on  the  stone  brink  on  which  the 
little  king's  inert  body  was  lying,  held  the  beloved  pale 
face  to  which  the  fair  hair  was  clinging  —  a  gloomy  sight 
—  under  the  basin ;  and  there  was  a  trickling  stream 
reaching  to  the  bluish  eyelid,  and  a  dark  red  spot  where 
it  had  been  bathed  with  water,  and  from  between  the  lids 
a  very  small  stream  was  issuing  redder  still. 

The  queen  did  not  speak  :  she  did  not  even  think.  In 
her  cambric  dress,  which  was  crumpled  and  wet,  and 
which  clung  to  her  beautiful  form  as  to  a  marble  naiad, 
she  leaned  over  her  little  one,  watching  him  closely. 
What  a  moment  of  agonized  waiting  !  Gradually  reviv- 
ing by  the  immersion,  the  wounded  boy  started,  stretched 
his  limbs  as  one  does  in  waking,  and  immediately  began 
to  groan. 

"  He  lives  !  "  cried  the  mother  with  delirious  joy. 

Then,  raising  her  head,  she  saw  opposite  her  M^raut, 
whose  paleness  and  dejection  seemed  to  ask  pardon. 

The  recollection  of  what  had  passed  on  the  bench  re- 
curred to  her,  mingled  with  the  terrible  surprise  of  the 
catastrophe ;    and  she  recalled  her  weakness  so  quickly 


3i8  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

visited  on  the  head  of  tlie  child,  and  was  filled  with  rage 
against  this  man  and  herself. 

"Begone!  begone!  May  I  never  see  thee  again!" 
she  cried,  with  a  terrible  look.  It  was  her  love  she  was 
confessing  before  every  one  to  punish  herself,  and  to 
cure  herself,  —  her  love,  which  she  flung  in  his  face  like 
an  insult  in  the  insolence  of  that  word  "  thee." 


THE  DARKENED  ROOM.  319 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

THE  DARKENED  ROOM. 

"  Once  upon  a  time,  in  the  duchy  of  Oldenburg,  there 
was  a  Countess  of  Ponikau,  to  whom  the  dwarfs  on  her 
wedding-day  gave  three  little  golden  loaves." 

Madame  de  Silvis  was  repeating  this  in  a  darkened 
room,  where  the  windows  were  tightly  closed,  and  the 
curtains  drawn  over  them,  and  hanging  to  the  floor. 
The  little  king  was  lying  on  his  bed ;  and  the  queen  sat 
near  him  like  a  white  phantom,  applying  ice  to  the  fore- 
head covered  with  a  bandage,  which  she  had  renewed 
every  few  minutes  night  and  day  for  a  whole  week.  How 
has  she  lived  without  sleeping,  and  almost  without  eating, 
seated  on  the  narrow  edge  of  the  bed,  her  hands  holding 
those  of  her  son  in  the  intervals  between  the  bandaging, 
and  passing  from  the  coldness  of  the  ice  to  the  fever  she 
is  watching,  and  which  she  dreads  as  she  feels  it  in  the 
sick  boy's  feeble  pulse  ? 

The  little  king  wishes  his  mother  to  remain  there 
always.  The  darkness  of  this  great  room  is  peopled  to 
him  with  gloomy  shadows  and  terrifying  visions.  Then 
the  impossibility  of  reading  or  touching  a  plaything 
keeps  him  in  a  stupor,  which  makes  Fred^rique  anxious. 

"Are  you  suffering?"  she  asks  ever)'  moment. 

"  No  :  I  am  weary,"  answers  the  child  in  a  weak  voice. 
And  to  drive  away  this  weariness,  to  people  the  sad  at- 
mosphere  of  the    room   with   brilliant  visions,  Madame 


320  A'/NGS  IN  EXILE. 

de  Silvis  has  begun  to  draw  from  her  stock  of  fanciful 
tales,  full  of  old  German  castles,  and  goblins  dancing  at 
the  foot  of  the  tower  where  the  princess  is  waiting  for 
the  bluebird  and  twirling  her  glass  distaff. 

While  listening  to  these  endless  stories,  the  queen 
despairs.  It  seems  to  her  that  they  are  undoing  the  work 
she  has  done  with  so  much  pains ;  that  she  is  witnessing 
the  crumbling  away,  stone  by  stone,  of  an  upright,  tri- 
umphant column.  It  is  that  which  she  sees  in  the  dark- 
ness before  her,  in  the  long  hours  of  seclusion,  when  she 
is  much  more  disturbed  at  having  her  boy  fall  into  a 
woman's  hands  again,  and  once  more  becoming  the 
feeble  little  Zara,  than  at  the  wound  itself,  whose  dan- 
gerous character  she  does  not  yet  know  to  its  full  extent. 
When  the  doctor,  with  a  lamp  in  his  hand,  for  a  moment 
disperses  the  accumulated  veils  of  shade,  raises  the 
bandage,  and  with  a  drop  of  atropia  tries  to  awaken 
the  sensibility  of  the  injured  eye,  the  mother  is  re-assured 
on  seeing  that  the  little  one  does  not  give  a  cry,  or  hold 
out  his  arms  to  protect  himself.  No  one  dares  tell  her, 
that,  on  the  contrary,  this  insensibility  and  stillness  of  all 
the  nerves  is  the  death  of  the  organ.  The  ball  in  re- 
bounding, although  its  force  was  spent,  could  still  injure 
and  loosen  the  retina.  The  right  eye  is  irrevocably 
destroyed.  Every  precaution  that  they  may  take  can 
only  tend  to  preserve  the  other,  which  is  threatened  by 
that  sympathy  of  parts  which  makes  sight  a  single  organ 
with  double  branches.  Ah  !  if  the  extent  of  her  misfor- 
tune was  known  by  the  queen,  who  so  firmly  believes,  that, 
thanks  to  her  care  and  vigilant  tenderness,  the  accident 
will  leave  no  trace,  and  who  already  talks  to  the  child 
about  the  first  time  they  will  go  out ! 

"  Leopold,  shall  you  be  glad  to  take  a  fine  walk  in  the 
forest?" 


THE  DARKENED  ROOM.  321 

Yes  :  Leopold  will  be  very  happy  to.  He  wishes  they 
would  take  him  to  that  fete  he  went  to  once  with  his 
mother  and  the  tutor.  And,  suddenly  interrupting  him- 
self, he  asked,  — 

"  Where  is  Monsieur  Elys^e  ?  Why  does  he  never  come 
to  see  me?" 

They  answer  that  his  teacher  has  gone  on  a  long  jour- 
ney. This  explanation  sufifices.  Thinking  fatigues  him, 
and  talking  also ;  and  he  falls  back  into  his  silent  indif- 
ference, returns  to  the  land  of  visions  which  sick  people 
evoke  while  blending  their  surroundings  with  their  dreams 
and  the  motionless  aspect  of  things,  for  they  fear  motion 
and  sound  for  him. 

People  come  in  and  go  out  treading  cautiously,  and 
answer  in  whispers.  The  queen  hears  nothing,  and  pays 
attention  only  to  the  bandaging.  Sometimes  Christian 
pushes  open  the  door,  which  is  always  ajar  on  account  of 
the  heat  of  this  seclusion,  and,  in  a.  voice  which  he  tries 
to  make  joyous  and  careless,  comes  to  say  some  amiable 
nonsense  to  his  son  to  make  him  laugh  or  talk.  But  his 
voice  has  a  false  ring  since  the  recent  catastrophe,  and 
the  father  frightens  the  child.  His  little  memory,  which 
the  gun-shot  filled  with  the  confusion  of  its  smoke,  retains 
some  dominant  feature  of  the  late  scenes,  —  the  despairing 
attempts  of  the  queen,  the  shock  he  felt  when  she  came 
near  falling  with  him  down  three  stories.  He  answers  in 
a  low  voice,  through  closed  teeth.  Then  Christian  ad- 
dresses his  wife  :  — 

"  You  should  rest  a  little,  Fr^d^rique  :  it  is  for  the 
child's  interest  for  you  to  do  so  ;  for  you  are  killing  your- 
self." 

But  the  hand  of  the  prince  presses,  that  of  his  mother 
in  an  imploring  grasp,  and  she  re-assures  him  with  the 
same  mute  eloquence  :  — 


32  2  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

"  No,  no  :  do  not  be  afraid.     I  will  not  leave  you." 
She  coldly  exchanges  a  few  words  with  her  husband ; 
then  leaves  him  to  his  dismal  reflections. 

The  accident  to  his  son  completes  a  gloomy  series  for 
Christian.  He  feels  himself  alone  in  the  world,  in  despair 
and  subdued.  Ah,  if  his  wife  would  take  him  back  again  ! 
He  feels  the  need  of  the  weak,  —  to  draw  close  to  some 
one  in  misfortune,  to  place  his  head  on  a  friendly  bosom, 
to  find  relief  in  tears  and  confessions,  and  then  to  return 
to  new  amusements  and  new  treachery.  But  Fr^d^rique's 
heart  is  forever  lost  to  him ;  and  now  the  child,  in  his 
turn,  avoids  his  caresses.  He  tells  himself  this  as  he 
stands  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  in  the  dark  room  ;  while  the 
queen,  watching  the  minutes,  takes  the  ice  in  a  cup,  and 
places  it  on  the  wet  bandage,  and  raises  and  kisses  the 
little  sick  brow  to  see  if  it  is  warm  ;  while  Madame  de  Sil- 
vis  gravely  relates  the  story  of  the  three  little  golden  loaves 
to  the  legitimate  sovereign  of  the  kingdoms  of  Illyria  and 
Dalmatia.  Christian  leaves  the  room,  his  exit  being 
unobserved  as  his  entrance,  and  wanders  in  a  melancholy 
mood  through  the  silent  house,  which  is  kept  in  the  same 
order  and  ceremonious  style  as  usual  by  the  Duke  de 
Rosen,  who  is  seen  going  and  coming  from  the  hotel  to 
the  servants'  quarters  and  intendant's  house  holding  him- 
self erect,  and  shaking  his  head.  The  hot-house  and 
garden  continue  to  bloom ;  and  the  ouistitis,  enlivened  by 
the  heat,  fill  their  cage  with  little  cries  and  gambols.  The 
prince's  pony,  led  by  the  groom,  takes  a  hundred  steps 
in  the  court-yard,  which  is  deadened  with  a  layer  of 
straw,  stops  at  the  steps,  and  turns  his  little  hazel  eyes 
sadly  towards  the  place  where  the  little  king  used  to  come 
down.  The  hotel  still  has  an  elegant,  comfortable  appear- 
ance j  but  it  seems  as  if  one  were  waiting  and  hoping  for 


THE  DARKENED  ROOM.  323 

something,  and  there  is  a  feeling  of  suspense  in  the 
air,  a  silence  like  that  which  follows  a  storm.  The  most 
impressive  sight  is  the  three  blinds  above,  which  are 
closely  fastened  even  when  every  thing  is  thrown  open  to 
admit  the  air  and  light,  and  which  shut  in  the  mystery  of 
pain  and  sickness. 

Meraut,  driven  from  the  royal  house,  takes  lodgings 
quite  near,  and  constantly  wanders  around  it,  and  looks 
in  despair  at  the  closed  windows.  It  is  his  torment  and 
punishment.  He  returns  every  day  with  the  fear  of  find- 
ing them  all  open  some  morning  letting  out  the  smoke 
from  an  extinguished  candle.  The  habitues  of  this  part 
of  Saint  Mand^  know  him  well.  The  woman  selling 
pastry-cakes,  sounding  her  castanets  when  this  tall,  un- 
happy-looking fellow  passes,  the  man  tossing  balls,  and 
the  employe  in  the  railroad-station  shut  up  in  his  little 
wooden  building,  all  consider  him  a  little  crazy ;  and  truly 
his  despair  is  turning  to  a  mania.  But  it  is  not  the  lover 
who  suffers.  The  queen  did  well  to  drive  him  away  :  he 
deserved  it ;  and  his  passion  vanished  before  the  great 
disaster  to  his  hopes.  To  have  dreamed  of  making  a 
king,  having  given  himself  that  superb  task,  and  then  to 
crush  and  destroy  every  thing  with  his  own  hands  !  The 
father  and  mother,  whose  affection  had  received  the 
heaviest  blow,  were  in  no  greater  despair  than  he.  He 
had  not  even  the  consolation  of  giving  his  care  and  show- 
ing his  soHcitude  every  hour,  and  could  hardly  obtain 
news,  the  servants  owing  him  a  grudge  on  account  of  the 
accident.  However,  a  brigadier  of  the  forest,  having 
access  to  the  house,  told  him  the  rumors  among  the  ser- 
vants, enlarged  upon  by  that  love  of  the  horrible  which 
the  common  people  possess.  Sometimes  they  declared 
the  little  king  was  blind,  and  sometimes  he  was  delirious ; 


324  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

and  they  said  the  queen  had  decided  to  let  him  die 
of  hunger.  And  the  sad  Elysde  Uved  a  whole  day  on 
these  discouraging  reports ;  and  wandered  through  the 
woods  as  long  as  his  limbs  would  bear  him,  then  returned 
and  watched  at  the  outskirts  in  the  tall,  flowery  grass, 
which  was  trodden  down  on  Sundays  by  promcnaders,  — 
a  real  rural  spot,  but  deserted  during  the  week. 

Once  at  nightfall  he  threw  himself  down  in  the  cool 
meadow,  with  his  eyes  towards  the  house,  where  the  lights 
were  screened  by  the  interlaced  branches.  The  jugglers 
were  going  away,  and  the  guards  were  beginning  their 
evening  rounds,  and  the  swallows  were  flying  around  in  a 
large  circle  above  the  tallest  grass  in  the  pursuit  of  gnats 
which  came  down  at  sunset.  It  was  a  melancholy  hour. 
Elysee  was  influenced  by  it.  Weary  in  mind  and  body,  he 
listened  to  his  memory  and  anxieties,  as  it  happens  in  the 
silence  of  nature,  where  our  inward  struggles  try  to  make 
themselves  heard.  Suddenly  his  eyes,  which  were  look- 
ing at  nothing,  saw  before  him  the  uneven  step,  Quaker 
hat,  white  waistcoat,  and  gaiters  of  Boscovich.  The 
councillor  was  moving  rapidly  away  with  mincing  steps, 
like  a  woman,  looking  very  much  agitated,  and  holding 
carefully  in  his  hand  an  object  wrapped  up  in  his  hand- 
kerchief. He  did  not  seem  surprised  on  seeing  Elys^e, 
and  accosted  him  in  the  most  natural  tone  and  manner, 
as  if  nothing  had  happened  :  — 

"  My  dear  M^raut,  you  see  a  very  happy  man." 

"  Ah,  my  God  !  what  is  it  ?  Is  his  Highness's  condi- 
tion "  — 

The  botanist  assumed  a  look  for  the  occasion  to  say 
that  his  Highness  was  getting  on  just  the  same,  always 
quiet,  the  room  still  darkened,  and  the  same  sad  uncer- 
tainty ;  oh  !  very  sad.     Then  he  said  suddenly,  — 


THE  DARKENED  ROOM.  325 

"  Guess  what  I  have  here.  Take  care  !  It  is  fragile  : 
you  will  loosen  the  earth.  A  foot  of  clematis,  —  not  the 
common  clematis  of  your  garden,  but  Clematis  Dahnat- 
ica,  —  a  particular  dwarf-species,  which  is  only  found  with 
us.  I  doubted  at  first,  feeling  uncertain.  I  have 
watched  it  since  spring.  But  see  the  stem  and  the 
corolla,  and  this  perfume  like  crushed  almonds  !  " 

And,  unfolding  his  handkerchief  with  endless  precau- 
tions, he  released  a  frail,  ungraceful  plant,  with  a  milky- 
white  flower,  growing  paler  as  it  approached  the  green 
leaves,  and  being  almost  confounded  with  them.  M^raut 
tried  to  question  him,  and  get  more  news  from  him  ;  but 
the  monomaniac  was  absorbed  in  his  mania  and  discovery. 
It  was  indeed  a  very  strange  chance  that  this  little  plant 
should  have  pushed  forth,  alone  of  its  species,  six  hun- 
dred leagues  from  his  country.  Flowers  have  their  his- 
tory, and  they  also  have  their  romance ;  and  it  was  this 
probable  romance  that  the  good  man  repeated  to  him- 
self, while  thinking  he  was  telling  M^raut :  — 

"  By  what  peculiarity  of  ground,  what  geological  mys- 
tery, has  this  little  travelling  seed  been  able  to  germinate  at 
the  foot  of  an  oak  at  Saint  Mand6  ?  Such  instances  occur 
sometimes.  A  friend  of  mine  —  a  botanist  —  found  a 
flower  from  Laponia  among  the  Pyrenees.  It  is  brought 
in  currents  of  air,  and  particles  of  earth  that  are  carried 
to  certain  places.  But  the  miracle  here  is  that  this  bit  of 
plant  has  grown  up  exactly  in  the  neighborhood  of  its 
compatriots,  exiles  also.  And  see  how  well  it  is  doing : 
it  is  a  little  pale  from  exile,  but  its  tendrils  are  ready  to 
climb." 

He  stood  there  in  the  waning  daylight,  with  his  clema- 
tis in  his  hand,  motionless  in  happy  contemplation,  and 
said  suddenly,  — 


326  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

"  The  devil !     It  is  late  !  I  must  go  in  !     Good-by  !  " 

"  I  will  go  with  you,"  said  Elys6e. 

Boscovich  was  stunned.  He  was  present  at  the  fatal 
scene,  and  knew  how  the  tutor  left,  attributing  his  being 
sent  off  to  the  accident  only.  What  would  they  think  ? 
What  would  the  queen  say  ? 

"  No  one  will  see  me.  Councillor.  You  will  let  me  in 
through  the  avenue,  and  I  will  steal  quietly  in  as  far  as 
the  room." 

"  What !  you  mean  "  — 

"  To  go  near  his  Highness,  and  to  hear  him  speak  a 
moment,  without  his  suspecting  that  I  am  there." 

The  weak  Boscovich  exclaimed  and  protested  :  but  he 
walked  ahead  all  the  same,  urged  on  by  the  desire  of 
Elys^e,  who  followed  him  without  heeding  his  objections. 

Oh  !  what  was  M^raut's  emotion,  when  the  little  gate, 
in  the  avenue  among  the  ivy,  opened,  and  he  found  him- 
self in  that  part  of  the  garden  where  his  life  was  crushed  ? 

"Wait  for  me,"  said  the  councillor,  trembling  :  "  I  will 
come  and  let  you  know  when  the  servants  are  at  table. 
In  that  way  you  will  meet  no  one  on  the  stairs." 

No  one  had  been  to  the  spot  where  the  firing  took 
place  since  that  fatal  day.  Traces  of  hurried  footsteps 
on  the  trodden  borders  and  gravelled  paths  brought  the 
scene  vividly  before  Elysee.  The  same  riddled  boards 
hung  on  the  fence  ;  the  water  flowed  from  the  basin  like  a 
spring  of  gushing  tears,  looking  gray  in  the  sad  twilight 
hour ;  and  it  seemed  to  Elys6e  as  if  he  heard  the  queen's 
voice  sobbing,  and  the  "  Begone  !  begone  ! "  which  as 
he  seemed  to  hear  it  in  memory  gave  him  the  sensation 
of  a  stab  and  a  caress.  When  Boscovich  returned,  they 
glided  past  the  clusters  of  trees  till  they  reached  the 
house.     In  the  gallery  covered  with  glass,  which  opened 


THE   DARKENED   ROOM.  327 

on  the  garden,  and  served  as  a  study-room,  the  books 
were  ranged  on  the  table,  and  the  chairs  of  the  teacher 
and  pupil  stood  near,  ready  for  the  next  lesson,  having 
the  cruel,  inert  appearance  of  material  things. 

It  was  as  painful  as  the  silence  in  the  places  where  the 
child,  laughing  and  singing  and  running  about,  going 
through  his  narrow  orbit  ten  times  a  day,  was  now  miss- 
ing. 

From  the  staircase,  which  was  fully  lighted,  Boscovich, 
who  was  walking  ahead,  led  him  into  the  room  in  front 
of  the  king's,  which  was  also  dark,  and  where  the  faintest 
ray  of  light  was  shut  out.  A  night-lamp  was  burning  in 
a  retired  alcove,  surrounded  by  bottles  and  potions. 

The  queen  and  Madame  de  Silvis  are  near  him. 

"  Be  sure  and  do  not  speak,  and  return  quickly." 

Elys^e  heard  no  more,  his  foot  was  already  on  the 
threshold,  and  his  heart  was  beating  fast  and  nerved  to 
the  sight.  His  unpractised  eyes  could  not  penetrate  the 
dense  darkness.  He  could  distinguish  nothing  ;  but  in  the 
distance  he  heard  a  child's  voice  repeating  and  intoning 
the  evening  prayers,  and  it  was  very  difficult  to  recognize 
it  as  that  of  the  little  king,  it  was  so  weary  and  dull. 
When  he  reached  one  of  the  many  "Amens,"  the  child 
paused. 

"  Mother,  must  I  also  say  the  king's  prayer?  " 

"Why,  yes,  my  darling,"  said  the  beautiful,  CTave  voice, 
whose  tone  had  also  changed,  and  was  quivering  and 
thin  on  the  edges,  as  a  metal  worn  out  by  the  constant 
dropping  of  water. 

The  prince  hesitated  in  his  answer  :  — 

"  Because  I  thought  —  It  seemed  to  me  that  now  it 
was  not  worth  while." 

The  queen  asked  quickly,  — 


328  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

"Why?" 

"  Oh  !  "  said  the  child-king  precociously  and  wisely,  "  I 
was  thinking  that  I  should  have  many  other  things  to  ask 
God  tlian  what  are  in  that  prayer." 

But  recovering  liimself,  from  a  sudden  impulse  of  his 
kindly  little  nature,  he  added,  — 

"  I  will  say  it  at  once,  Mamma,  —  at  once,  —  since 
you  wish  it." 

And  he  began  slowly,  in  a  resigned  but  tremulous 
voice  :  — 

"  O  Lord,  who  art  my  God  !  thou  hast  placed  thy  ser- 
vant on  the  throne  ;  but  I  am  a  child  who  does  not  know 
how  to  guide  himself,  and  who  has  been  encharged  with 
the  people  whom  thou  hast  chosen." 

At  the  end  of  the  room  a  stifled  sob  was  heard.  The 
queen  started. 

"  Who  is  there  ?  Is  it  you,  Christian  ? "  she  asked,  at 
the  sound  of  a  closing  door. 

At  the  end  of  the  week  the  physician  declared  that 
they  could  no  longer  condemn  the  little  invalid  to  the 
torture  of  the  dark  room ;  that  it  was  time  to  admit  a 
little  light. 

"  Already? "  said  Fr^d^rique.  "They  assured  me  that 
it  would  last  more  than  a  month." 

The  physician  could  not  answer,  that  the  eye  being 
dead,  wholly  dead,  without  hope  of  restoration,  this  se- 
clusion was  useless.  He  got  off  by  one  of  those  vague 
phrases,  of  which  doctors  in  their  pity  have  the  secret. 
The  queen  did  not  understand,  and  no  one  near  her  had 
strength  enough  to  tell  her  the  truth.  They  waited  for 
Father  Alphee,  religion  having  the  privilege  to  soothe 
every  wound,  even  those  which  it  cannot  heal.  With  his 
roughness   and   rude   accent,  the    monk,  who  used   the 


THE  DARKENED  ROOM  329 

word  of  God  as  a  club,  directed  the  terrible  blow  under 
which  Fr^d^rique's  pride  must  give  way.  The  mother 
suffered  on  the  day  of  the  accident,  thrilled  in  her  most 
tender  fibres  by  the  cries,  swoon,  and  the  blood  which 
streamed  from  the  wound  of  her  poor  little  boy.  This 
second  grief  fell  more  directly  on  the  queen.  Her  son 
deformed,  disfigured  !  She  wished  to  have  him  so  hand- 
some in  the  day  of  triumph ;  and  must  she  take  this 
infirni  king  to  the  Illyrians?  She  would  not  pardon  the 
physician  for  having  deceived  her.  Thus,  even  in  exile, 
kings  are  always  the  victim  of  their  own  grandeur  and 
human  cowardice. 

In  order  to  avoid  too  abrupt  a  change  from  darkness 
to  light,  they  hung  green  curtains  over  the  casement ; 
then  the  windows  were  opened  freely ;  and,  when  the 
actors  in  this  sad  drama  could  look  at  each  other  in  the 
broad  daylight,  they  became  aware  of  the  change  that 
had  taken  place  in  them  during  their  seclusion.  Fr6- 
d^rique  had  grown  old,  and  was  obliged  to  change  the 
style  of  dressing  her  hair,  and  wear  it  smooth  near  the 
temples  to  conceal  the  white  locks.  The  little  prince 
was  very  pale,  and  his  right  eye  was  shaded  by  a  band- 
age ;  and  his  whole  face,  slightly  marked  with  little 
puckers  and  precocious  wrinkles,  seemed  to  feel  the 
weight  of  this  bandage.  What  a  new  life  this  invalid 
existence  was  for  him  !  At  table  he  had  to  learn  again 
how  to  eat ;  and,  not  being  able  to  guide  his  spoon  and 
fork,  they  hit  him  in  the  forehead  or  ear,  through  the 
awkwardness  which  affects  all  the  senses  when  one  is 
destroyed.  At  this  he  gave  his  little  childish  laugh,  and 
the  queen  turned  aside  to  hide  her  tears.  As  soon  as  he 
could  go  down  into  the  garden,  other  trials  awaited  him. 
He  hesitated  and  stumbled  at  every  step,  went  sideways 


instead  of  straight  ahead,  and  even  fell,  or  timidly  re- 
coiled at  the  slightest  obstacle ;  clinging  hold  of  his 
mother's  hands  and  skirts,  and  turning  the  comers  of 
the  park  as  if  there  were  so  many  ambushes  behind 
them.  The  queen  tried  to  rouse  his  spirit  at  least,  but 
the  shock  had  been  too  great,  no  doubt :  with  the  visual 
ray  it  seemed  to  have  extinguished  a  ray  of  intelligence. 
He  understood  perfectly,  poor  little  fellow !  the  trouble 
that  his  condition  caused  his  mother ;  and,  while  speak- 
ing to  her,  raised  his  head  with  an  effort,  and  gave  her  a 
timid,  awkward  look,  as  if  to  ask  pardon  for  his  weakness 
and  infirmity.  But  he  could  not  conquer  certain  unrea- 
sonable physical  terrors.  The  sound  of  firing  at  the 
edge  of  the  wood  —  the  first  he  had  heard  since  the  acci- 
dent —  almost  threw  him  into  convulsions ;  and,  the  first 
time  they  spoke  to  him  about  mounting  the  pony,  he 
began  to  tremble  all  over. 

"  No,  no,  I  beg  you  ! "  said  he,  pressing  up  against 
Fr^d^rique.  "  Take  me  in  the  landau  with  you :  I  am 
afraid." 

"Afraid  of  what?" 

"  I  am  afraid,  —  terribly  afraid." 

Neither  reasoning  nor  entreaties  availed. 

"Well,  then,"  said  the  queen,  with  silent  anger,  "let 
the  landau  be  harnessed." 

It  was  a  beautiful  Sunday  at  the  end  of  autumn,  re- 
minding one  of  the  Sunday  in  May  when  they  went  to 
Vincennes.  But,  unhke  that  day,  Fr^d^rique  was  tired 
of  the  common  crowd  in  the  paths  and  on  the  lawns. 
This  open-air  gayety  and  smell  of  food  made  her  ill. 
Now  she  saw  only  poverty  and  sorrow  among  them,  in 
spite  of  their  laughter  and  holiday  dress.  The  child, 
trying  to  smooth  the  beautiful  face,  whose  disenchanted 


THE  DARKENED  ROOM.  331 

expression  he  attributed  to  liimself,  lavished  timid  and 
passionate  caresses  on  his  mother. 

"  Are  you  angry  with  me,  Mamma,  for  not  having  taken 
the  pony  ?  " 

No  :  she  was  not  angry  with  him.  But  what  would  he 
do  on  the  day  of  his  coronation,  when  his  subjects  would 
recall  him  ?     A  king  ought  to  know  how  to  ride. 

He  turned  his  little  old  face  round  to  look  at  the 
queen  with  his  only  eye,  and  asked,  — 

"  Do  you  really  think  they  would  want  me  now,  as  I 
am?" 

He  looked  very  sickly,  and  very  old ;  but  Fr^d^rique 
was  indignant  at  the  doubt,  and  mentioned  the  King  of 
Westphalia,  who  was  also  blind. 

"  Oh !  a  king  they  made  fun  of.  They  sent  him 
away." 

She  then  told  the  history  of  Jean  of  Bohemia,  at  the 
battle  of  Crecy,  requesting  his  knights  to  lead  him  far 
enough  in  front  for  him  to  give  a  blow  with  his  sword ; 
and  they  led  him  so  far  in  front,  that  the  next  day  they 
all  were  found  dead,  their  bodies  lying  on  the  ground, 
and  their  horses  tied  together. 

"  It  is  terrible  !  terrible  !  "  said  Leopold. 

And  he  shuddered,  as  he  pondered  dreamily  over  this 
heroic  tale,  as  though  it  were  one  of  Madame  de  Silvis' 
fairy-stories ;  for  he  was  so  small,  so  weak,  and  so  little 
of  a  king.  Just  then  the  carriage  left  the  borders  of  the 
lake,  and  entered  a  narrow  path,  where  there  was  hardly 
room  enough  for  the  carriage-wheels.  Some  one  stepped 
quickly  into  the  road  whom  the  child  could  not  see,  his 
bandage  obstructing  his  sight ;  but  the  queen  recognized 
him.  With  a  grave,  hard  look,  she  made  a  motion  of  her 
head  towards  the  poor  infirm  boy,  who  was  buried  in  her 
22 


332  KINGS  J  A    EXILE. 

skirts,  their  chef-cT xuvre  in  ruins,  the  debris  and  \vreck  of 
a  great  race.  It  was  their  last  meeting,  and  M6raut  left 
Saint  Mand6  forever. 


FTDES,  SPES,  333 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

FIDES,   SPES. 

The  Duke  de  Rosen  entered  first. 

"  It  is  rather  damp,"  he  said  gravely.  "  It  has  not 
been  opened  since  my  son's  death." 

Indeed,  a  chill  and  dampness  like  that  of  a  sepulchral 
cave  pervaded  this  splendid  suite  of  apartments  on  the 
first  floor,  where  the  guzlas  had  played  so  proudly,  and 
where  every  thing  was  in  the  same  place  as  on  the  night 
of  the  ball.  The  two  carved  chairs  of  the  king  and 
queen,  which  stood  near  the  musicians'  stand,  were  still 
there,  but  were  surpassed  by  magnificent  desks  of 
wrought  iron ;  and  near  them  arm-chairs  in  a  row 
formed  an  aristocratic  reserved  circle.  The  floors  were 
strewn  with  ribbons,  debris  of  flowers,  and  light  faded 
gauze,  and  covered  with  the  dust  of  dancing.  One  saw 
that  the  decorators  had  hastily  taken  down  the  hangings 
and  the  garlands  of  vines,  and  had  hurriedly  closed  doors 
and  windows  in  these  salons,  which  spoke  of  a  fete  in  a 
house  of  mourning.  The  same  neglect  was  seen  in  the 
garden,  which  was  covered  with  dead  leaves,  and  over 
which  winter,  then  spring,  had  passed,  without  its  hav- 
ing been  cultivated ;  for  it  was  overgrown  with  weeds. 
Through  one  of  those  odd  moods  of  sorrow,  which  makes 
one  wish  that  every  thing  should  suffer  and  wither  near  it, 
the  duke  would  not  permit  it  to  be  touched,  any  more  than 
he  would  consent  to  live  in  his  magnificent  apartments. 


334  KTyC";  TN  RXTLB. 

Since  the  affair  at  Gravosa,  and  after  Colette  had 
gone  to  Nice  with  her  little  W  to  recover  from  her  ill- 
ness, he  gave  up  his  solitary  visits  to  the  Quai  d'Anjou, 
and  had  a  bed  placed  in  the  intendant's  house.  Evi- 
dently he  was  going  to  sell  the  hotel  some  day  or  other, 
and  do  without  the  elegant  curiosities  which  surrounded 
him.  That  is  why  the  Venetian  mirrors,  no  longer  re- 
flecting the  loving  couples  in  the  Hungarian  mazurkas, 
and  sparkling  eyes  and  chandeliers,  mirrored  to-day  in 
the  gray,  cold  light  of  a  Parisian  sky,  the  ludicrous  faces, 
greedy  eyes,  and  feverish  lips  of  father  Leemans  and 
the  before-mentioned  Pichery,  his  acolyte,  who  looked 
very  wan,  with  his  curly  locks  and  mustache  stiff  with 
cosmetic. 

Truly,  it  required  all  the  habitual  self-control  of  the 
bric-d-brac  dealer,  and  his  practice  in  trading  and  acting 
those  comedies  which  bring  into  play  all  the  grimaces  of 
the  human  mask,  for  the  good  man  to  restrain  a  cry  of 
joy  and  admiration  when  the  general's  servant,  who 
was  as  old  and  straight  as  his  master,  had  opened  the 
Persian  blinds,  which  were  as  high  as  the  room.  They 
noisily  rattled  against  the  walls  on  the  northern  side ; 
and  the  light,  falling  through  them  softly,  brought  out  the 
shades  and  superb  tones  of  the  wood,  bronze,  and  ivory 
of  all  the  precious  treasures  of  a  collection  which  were 
not  labelled  and  cared  for  like  that  of  Madame  de  Spa- 
lato,  but  were  newer,  more  rare  and  foreign,  and  more 
numerous  and  costly,  while  not  one  was  imperfect,  or  an 
imitation. 

The  Duke  de  Rosen  had  not  pillaged  at  random  in 
the  fashion  of  those  generals  who  pass  through  a  summer 
palace  like  a  bombshell,  which,  in  its  devastating  track, 
carries  away  bell-towers  and  wisps  of  straw  alike.     There 


FIDES,   SFES.  335 

were  nothing  but  carefully  selected  wonders ;  and  it  was 
a  curious  sight  to  see  the  bric-a-brac  dealer  stop  with 
his  head  thrust  forward,  holding  up  his  magnifying-glass, 
lightly  scratching  the  enamels  and  sounding  the  bronzes 
indifferently,  even  scornfully,  while  from  his  feet  to  his 
head,  and  from  the  end  of  his  nails  to  the  point  of  his 
flat  beard,  his  whole  body  vibrated  and  twitched  as  if 
he  had  been  put  in  communication  with  an  electric  bat- 
tery. It  was  no  less  amusing  to  observe  Pichery,  who, 
having  no  idea  of  art  or  any  taste  of  his  own,  modelled 
his  ideas  on  those  of  his  companion,  made  the  same 
disdainful  face,  which  quickly  changed  into  amazement 
when  Leemans  said  to  him  in  a  low  voice,  while  he 
leaned  over  his  note-book  in  which  he  did  not  cease  to 
take  notes,  — 

"  That  is  worth  a  hundred  thousand  francs,  if  it's 
worth  a  sou."  Here  was  their  sole  chance  to  make  up 
for  the  "  big  scheme  "  in  which  they  had  been  so  largely 
involved.  But  they  had  to  keep  watch  over  themselves ; 
for  the  old  general  of  pandours,  who  was  as  mistrustful 
and  impenetrable  as  all  the  dealers  put  together,  followed 
them  step  by  step,  and  planted  himself  behind  them 
without  once  being  their  dupe. 

They  thus  reached  the  end  of  the  reception-rooms, 
and  came  to  a  small  room  which  was  raised  the  height 
of  two  steps,  and  exquisitely  furnished  in  the  Moorish 
style  with  low  divans,  carpets,  and  genuine  cabinets. 

"  Is  this  one  of  them  too?  "  asked  Leemans. 

The  general  hesitated  imperceptibly  before  answering. 
It  was  Colette's  retreat  in  the  immense  hotel,  —  her  chosen 
boudoir,  where  she  took  refuge  in  her  rare  leisure,  and 
attended  to  her  correspondence.  The  thought  passed 
through  his  mind  that  he  should  save  this  littie  oriental 


35(>  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

piece  of  furniture,  which  she  was  so  fond  of.  But  he  did 
not  hesitate  :  he  must  sell  it. 

"  This  is  to  go  too,"  he  said  coldly. 

Leemans,  who  was  immediately  attracted  by  the  rarity 
of  a  piece  of  Arabian  furniture,  which  was  carved  and 
gilded,  with  arcades  and  galleries  in  miniature,  began  to 
examine  the  various  secret  drawers  opening  one  into  the 
other  by  hidden  springs,  —  fresh  and  delicate  drawers, 
exhaling  a  fragrance  of  orange  and  sandal  wood  in  their 
satin  linings.  But,  in  plunging  his  hand  into  one  of 
them,  something  rustled. 

"  There  are  papers  here,"  he  said. 

When  the  inventory  was  finished,  and  the  duke  es- 
corted the  two  bric-d-brac  dealers  to  the  door,  he 
thought  of  the  papers  that  had  been  left  in  the  little 
piece  of  furniture,  —  a  package  of  letters  tied  with  a 
crumpled  ribbon,  and  impregnated  with  the  delicate  fra- 
grance of  the  drawer.  He  glanced  at  them  mechanically, 
and  recognized  the  handwriting.  It  was  Christian's 
coarse,  peculiar,  and  uneven  hand,  which  for  several 
months  had  only  spoken  to  him  of  money  in  the  way 
of  notes  and  drafts.  No  doubt  they  were  letters  from 
the  king  to  Herbert.  Why,  no  !  "  Colette,  my  dear 
sweetheart."  He  gave  the  bell  a  violent  pull,  and  tossed 
the  pile  on  a  lounge,  —  about  thirty  notes,  appointments 
for  rendezvous,  notes  of  thanks  and  rejoicing,  and  all  the 
guilty  correspondence  in  its  sad  commonplaceness,  end- 
ing with  excuses  for  broken  appointments,  the  missives 
becoming  colder  and  colder,  and  shorter  like  the  little 
papers  at  the  end  of  a  kite.  In  almost  all  there 
was  some  reference  to  a  tiresome,  persecuting  person- 
age, whom  Christian  mockingly  called  "  The  unfortunate 
Courtier,"  or  simply  ''  Unfortunate   C,"   and   to   whom 


FIDES,   SPES.  337 

the  duke  tried  to  give  a  name  ;  when,  at  the  end  of  one 
of  the  sneering  pages,  which  were  more  in  the  language 
of  a  Hbertine  than  of  one  in  love,  he  saw  his  own  carica- 
ture, his  little  pointed  face  on  the  long  claws  of  a  wad- 
ing-bird.  It  was  he,  his  wrinkles  and  eagle's  beak  and 
twinkling  eyes  ;  and  underneath,  to  leave  no  doubt  on 
the  subject,  was  written,  — 

"  Unfortunate  Courtier  mounting  guard  at  Quai 
(fOrsay." 

When  he  recovered  from  his  first  surprise,  and  under- 
stood the  outrage  in  all  its  baseness,  the  old  man  ex- 
claimed, "  Oh  !  "  and  remained  there  nonplussed  and 
ashamed. 

That  his  son  had  been  deceived  was  not  what  sur- 
prised him ;  but  to  be  deceived  by  this  Christian  for 
whom  they  had  sacrificed  every  thing,  and  for  whom 
Herbert  died  at  twenty-eight,  —  for  whom  he  himself  was 
about  to  ruin  himself,  and  sell  even  the  trophies  of  his 
victory,  that  the  royal  signature  might  not  be  protested  ! 
Ah  !  if  he  could  avenge  himself,  —  take  down  fi-om  that 
armor  two  weapons,  no  matter  what  kind  of  ones  !  But 
it  was  the  king  !  One  did  not  expect  right  conduct  of  a 
king.  And,  the  magic  of  the  sacred  word  suddenly 
appeasing  his  anger,  he  said  to  himself,  that,  after  all,  his 
Majesty,  in  trifling  with  one  of  his  servants,  had  not  been 
as  guilty  as  he,  the  Duke  de  Rosen,  in  making  a  mesal- 
liance between  his  son  and  this  Sauvadon.  He  was 
suffering  the  penalty  of  his  cupidity.  All  these  reflec- 
tions did  not  last  a  minute.  Locking  up  the  letters,  he 
went  out,  and  returned  to  Saint  Mand^  to  take  his  place 
at  the  desk  in  the  intendant's  house,  where  a  quantity  of 
notes  and  papers  awaited  him,  among  which  he  recog- 
nized more  than  once  the  coarse,  wavering  handwriting 


^^o  A'/jVGS  IN  EXILE. 

of  the  love-letters ;  and  Christian  would  not  have  dreamed 
that  he  knew  any  thing  about  them,  when,  passing  througii 
the  court-yard  after  this,  he  saw  the  long  outline  of  ihc 
"  Unfortunate  Courtier "  behind  the  window  as  erect, 
devoted,  and  vigilant  as  ever. 

Only  kings,  to  whose  persons  national  and  superstitious 
traditions  are  attached,  can  inspire  such  devotion,  even 
when  they  are  completely  unworthy  of  it.  This  one,  now 
that  his  child  was  out  of  danger,  enjoyed  himself  more 
than  ever.  He  at  first  tried  to  return  to  Sephora.  Yes, 
after  having  been  rudely  and  cynically  driven  away,  —  after 
having  proof,  every  proof,  of  her  treachery,  —  he  still  loved 
her  enough  to  throw  himself  at  her  feet  at  a  sign.  The 
fair  one  at  this  moment  was  full  of  the  joy  of  a  renewed 
honeymoon.  Cured  of  her  ambition,  and  becoming 
tranquil  again,  as  it  was  her  nature  to  be,  and  firom  which 
state  she  was  drawn  by  her  greed  for  millions,  she  would 
have  liked  to  sell  her  hotel,  realize  from  it,  and  go  and 
live  at  Courbevoie  with  J.  Tom,  and  crush  the  Sprichts 
with  their  wealth.  J.  Tom  Levis,  on  the  contrary,  dreamed 
of  trying  new  schemes ;  and  the  high  circles  in  which  his 
wife  now  moved  gave  him  gradually  the  idea  of  another 
agency  in  a  more  luxurious,  more  fashionable  form, — 
trade  in  elegant  guise,  transacted  amid  the  flowers  and 
music  of  a  festival,  around  the  lake,  along  the  race-course, 
—  and  replacing  the  old  cab,  now  consigned  to  the  com- 
pany who  kept  small  vehicles,  with  a  solid  caVeche  in  livery 
with  the  countess's  crest  on  it. 

He  had  no  trouble  in  convincing  Sephora,  with  whom 
he  came  to  live  permanently ;  and  the  salons  in  Messina 
Avenue  were  lighted  for  a  series  of  dinners  and  balls,  the 
invitations  for  which  were  given  out  in  the  name  of  the 
Count  and  Countess  de  Spalato.    They  were  rather  thinly 


FIDES,   SPES.  339 

attended  at  first ;  then  the  feminine  element,  which  was 
at  first  rebellious,  ended  by  treating  J.  Tom  and  his  wife 
as  one  of  those  rich  foreign  families  who  had  come  from 
abroad,  and  whose  wealth  excused  their  foreign  ways. 
All  the  young  swells  hovered  around  Sephora,  who  became 
the  fashion  through  her  adventures  ;  and  the  count  had 
a  fine  business  in  the  very  beginning  of  winter. 

They  could  not  refuse  Christian  admission  to  the  salons 
which  had  cost  him  so  much,  and  then  the  title  of  king 
distinguished  and  recommended  the  house.  He  came 
there  in  a  cowardly  way,  in  the  vain  hope  of  again  reach- 
ing the  countess's  heart,  —  not  by  the  main  staircase,  but 
by  the  small  entrances,  by  the  way  of  the  back-stairs. 
After  having  played  some  time  this  rdle  of  dupe  or  victim, 
and  having  appeared  every  week  with  his  face  as  white  as 
his  linen  in  a  gilded  embrasure  of  a  window  to  which 
Tom  Levis's  watchful,  revolving  eyes  riveted  him,  he  be- 
came discouraged,  returned  no  more,  and  ran  after  other 
women  to  drown  his  sorrow.  Like  all  men  who  seek  a 
type  they  have  lost,  he  wandered  every^vhere,  and  de- 
scended low,  very  low,  led  on  by  Lebeau,  an  habitue  in 
Parisian  vice,  who  often  in  the  morning  carried  his  mas- 
ter's valise  into  strange  filth. 

It  was  a  complete  downfall,  which  every  day  became 
easier  to  this  weak,  voluptuous  soul,  and  from  which  his 
sad,  quiet  home  was  not  likely  to  save  him,  there  was 
so  little  to  amuse  one  in  the  Rue  Herbillon  now  that 
neither  M^raut  nor  the  princess  was  there.  Leopold  V. 
was  recovering  slowly,  and  was  confided  to  Madame  de 
Silvis's  instruction  during  his  convalescence,  who  could 
now  apply  the  precepts  of  the  Abb^  Diguet  about  the  six 
ways  of  knowing  men  and  the  seven  ways  of  sending  off 
flatterers.     They  were  sad  lessons,  made -awkward  by  the 


340  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

bandage,  which  obliged  the  httle  patient  to  keep  his  head 
on  one  side.  The  queen  presided  over  them  as  formerly, 
looking  sorrowfully  at  the  Clematis  Dabnatica,  the  little 
flower  of  exile  about  to  bloom  against  the  window-pane. 
For  some  time  the  Franciscans  had  been  searching  for  a 
tutor ;  but  they  could  not  easily  find  an  Klys^e  M^raut 
among  the  young  men  of  the  day.  Father  Alphee  also 
had  his  idea  about  the  matter,  which  he  was  careful  ncA 
to  give ;  for  the  queen  would  noL  allow  any  one  to  speak 
the  former  governor's  name  in  hti'  presence.  Once,  how- 
ever, under  grave  circumstances,  the  monk  ventured  to 
speak  of  his  friend. 

"  Madame,  Elys^e  M^raut  is  dying,"  said  he,  as  he  left 
the  table  after  saying  grace. 

During  his  stay  at  Saint  Mand6,  through  a  kind  of 
superstition,  as  one  keeps  in  the  top  of  a  wardrobe  an  old- 
fashioned  garment  one  will  never  put  on  again,  M^raut 
had  kept  his  room  in  the  Rue  Monsieur-le-Prince.  He 
never  went  there,  and  left  the  dust  of  time  and  neglect 
to  settle  on  papers  and  books  in  the  mysterious  silence 
of  this  retreat,  which  was  always  kept  closed  and  shut  out 
from  the  noisy  life  of  the  hotel.  One  day  he  came  there, 
aged  and  fatigued,  with  his  hair  almost  white.  The  stout 
hostess,  roused  from  her  torpor  at  hearing  him  fumbling 
among  the  keys  hung  on  their  nails,  hardly  recognized 
her  boarder. 

"What  kind  of  life  have  you  led.  Monsieur  M^raut, 
to  allow  yourself  to  shatter  your  constitution  in  this 
way?" 

"  It  is  true  I  am  rather  winnowed,"  said  Elys^e,  smil- 
ing; and  he  mounted  his  five  stories,  bent  over  and 
dejected.  The  room  was  just  the  same,  with  its  melan- 
choly view  through  the  dim  glass  of  roofs  and  square 


FIDES,   SPES.  341 

monastic  towers,  the  school  of  medicine,  and  the  amphi- 
theatre,—  cheerless  buildings  revealing  the  sadness  of 
their  destiny  \  and  on  the  right,  towards  the  Rue  Racine, 
the  two  great  sheets  of  water  belonging  to  the  city,  shin- 
ing in  their  stone  reservoirs,  mirrored  the  dull  sky  and 
smoky  chimneys.  All  was  unchanged ;  but  he  no  longer 
had  the  ardor  of  youth,  which  gives  color  and  warmth 
to  every  thing  around,  and  which  elevates  even  troubles 
and  difficulties.  He  tried  to  sit  down  at  his  table  and 
read,  and  shook  the  dust  from  his  unfinished  works ;  but 
the  queen's  reproachful  look  came  between  his  thoughts 
and  the  page,  and  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  his  pupil,  seated 
at  the  other  end  of  the  table,  were  waiting  for  his  lesson 
and  listening  to  him.  He  felt  too  sad  at  heart  and  too 
solitary,  and  descended  hastily  and  put  his  key  on  its  nail ; 
and  henceforth  his  tall,  ungainly  figure  was  seen,  as  for- 
merly, with  his  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head  and  a  package 
of  books  and  reviews  under  his  arm,  wandering  by  the 
quarter,  under  the  galleries  of  the  Odeon,  to  the  Quai 
Voltaire  ;  leaning  over,  and  getting  the  odor  of  new  prints 
and  the  huge  cases  of  castaway  literature  ;  reading  in  the 
streets,  in  the  paths  at  Luxembourg,  or  gesticulating  as  he 
leaned,  in  terribly  cold  weather,  against  a  statue  in  the 
garden  opposite  a  frozen  pond.  In  this  atmosphere  of 
study  and  intelligent  youth,  which  destroying  hands  have 
not  been  able  to  reach  nor  quite  drive  away,  he  again 
found  his  spirit  and  ardor.  Only  he  did  not  have  the 
same  audience,  for  the  tide  of  students  ebbs  and  flows  in 
this  changing  locality. 

The  meetings  were  held  in  different  places  also ;  and 
the  poHtical  cafes  were  deserted  for  the  beer-shops,  draped 
with  gaudy  banners  by  some  fashionable  decorator. 
Their  attendants  are  Swiss,  Italian,  and  Swedish  girls  in 


342  AVA'GS  IN  EXILE. 

costume.  Of  Elysf^e's  former  rivals,  of  the  fine  orators 
of  his  day,  and  the  Pesquidoux  of  Voltaire,  and  the  Lar- 
minat  of  the  Procope,  there  remained  only  a  vague  mem- 
ory in  the  minds  of  young  men,  as  of  actors  disappeared 
from  the  stage.  A  few  had  risen  very  high  in  power,  in 
public  life;  and  at  times  when  Elysde,  with  hair  flying,  went 
along  the  shops  reading,  some  illustrious  man  from  the 
Chamber  or  Senate  would  call  out  from  a  carriage,  "  M«§- 
raut,  M^raut !  "  Then  they  would  stop  and  talk.  "  What 
are  you  doing?  what  are  you  writing  now?"  they  asked 
M^raut,  who,  with  a  wrinkled  forehead,  talked  vaguely 
about  a  great  enterprise  "which  had  not  turned  out 
well."  Not  a  word  more  would  he  say.  They  wished  to 
get  him  away  from  there,  and  utilize  his  wasted  powers ; 
but  he  remained  faithful  to  his  monarchical  ideas  and 
his  hatred  against  the  revolution.  He  asked  for  nothing, 
and  had  no  need  of  any  one.  Nearly  all  the  money  he 
earned  from  teaching  having  been  saved,  he  did  not  even 
seek  pupils.  He  shut  himself  up  in  disdainful  sorrow, 
which  was  too  great  and  too  deep  to  be  understood ;  and 
had  no  other  diversion  than  a  few  visits  to  the  convent 
of  the  Franciscans,  where  he  went  not  only  to  get  news 
of  Saint  Mande,  but  because  he  liked  that  odd  chapel, 
its  Jerusalem  cellar,  and  the  painted  and  bleeding  Jesus. 
This  naive  mythology,  and  these  almost  pagan  represen- 
tations, charmed  the  Christian  of  the  early  centuries,  who 
sometimes  said,  "  The  philosophers  place  God  too  high  : 
one  no  longer  sees  him." 

But  Elys^e  saw  him  in  the  darkness  of  the  crypt ;  and, 
among  all  those  images  of  barbarous  torture,  by  the  side 
of  Margaret  d'Ossuna  flagellating  her  marble  shoulders, 
he  fancied  he  saw  that  vision  of  Christmas  Eve,  —  the 
Queen  of  Illyria,  with  outstretched  arms,  imploring  and 


FIDES,  SPSS.  343 

protecting  at  the  same  time,  and  with  hands  clasped 
around  her  son  as  she  knelt  before  the  manger. 

One  night  Elys^e  awoke  with  a  singular  burning  sensa- 
tion, which  rose  from  his  chest  like  a  wave,  giving  him  a 
feeling  of  final  annihilation,  and  filling  his  mouth  with 
blood.  It  was  mysterious  and  horrible  ;  the  attack  com- 
ing like  an  assassin  in  the  dark,  opening  doors  without  a 
sound.  He  was  not  frightened,  and  consulted  some 
medical  students  at  his  table  (Thote.  They  told  him  that 
he  was  very  ill. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  me?"  he  asked.  "Every 
thing,"  was  the  answer.  He  had  reached  a  critical  age, 
having  lived  forty  years  of  a  Bohemian  life,  in  which  in- 
firmity lies  in  ambush  watching  for  a  man,  and  makes 
him  pay  dearly  for  the  excesses  or  privations  of  his 
youth.  It  is  a  terrible  age,  especially  when  the  moral 
spring  is  broken,  and  the  dc;sire  to  live  no  longer  exists. 

Elys^e  still  led  his  usual  life,  always  out  in  the  rain 
and  wind ;  passing  from  overheated  halls,  where  the  air 
was  exhausted  by  gas,  to  the  cold  streets  in  midwinter ; 
and,  when  the  lights  were  extinguished  there,  he  con- 
tinued to  talk  on  the  edge  of  the  sidewalks,  walking  half 
the  night.  He  spit  blood  more  frequently,  and  a  fright- 
ful lassitude  followed.  That  he  might  not  be  forced  to 
take  to  his  bed,  —  for  the  melancholy  of  his  deserted 
room  weighed  on  him.  —  he  went  to  the  Rialto,  a  beer- 
shop  next  to  the  hotel,  and  read  his  papers  and  dreamed. 
The  place  was  quiet  till  evening,  and  bright  with  its  light 
oak  furniture,  and  walls  daubed  with  frescoes  representing 
Venice,  bridges,  and  cupolas  against  a  very  watery  rain- 
bow, —  a  most  deceptive  painting  of  still  life. 

The  Venetian  girls  themselves  —  who  were  so  lively  in 
the  evening  when  they  flew  round  between  the  benches 


344  KTNGS  IN  EXILE. 

rattling  their  leather  money-plates,  while  their  red  neck- 
laces were  reflected  in  the  beer-mugs  —  were  sleeping 
with  their  heads  on  the  table,  crumpling  the  tower  of 
laces  and  the  douffanks  batiste  sleeves  ;  or  sat  around  the 
stove  working  on  some  piece  of  sewing,  which  they  only 
left  to  drink  with  a  student.  One  of  them  —  a  tall,  strong 
girl,  with  heavy  tawny  braids  wound  round  her  head,  and 
whose  gestures  were  slow  and  grave  —  would  suspend 
them  a  moment  over  her  embroidery  to  listen. 

M^raut  looked  at  her  for  hours  until  she  spoke,  when 
her  coarse,  shrill  voice  woke  him  from  his  dream.  But 
soon  the  strength  failed  him  even  to  take  up  his  station 
in  a  beer-shop  behind  a  curtain,  which  he  slipped  along 
on  the  rod  to  screen  him.  At  last  he  could  no  longer 
go  downstairs,  and  was  obliged  to  remain  in  bed,  sur- 
rounded with  books  and  papers,  leaving  his  door  partly 
open,  that  the  life  and  sounds  of  the  hotel  might  reach 
him.  He  was  forbidden  to  talk,  and  resigned  himself  to 
write  ;  and  resumed  his  book,  —  his  famous  book  on  mon- 
archy, —  and  continued  it  in  feverish  excitement  and  with 
a  trembling  hand,  shaken  by  a  cough  which  scattered 
the  papers  over  the  bed.  Now  he  feared  only  one  thing, 
—  that  he  might  die  before  the  end,  and  go  as  he  had 
lived,  his  powers  lying  dormant,  unknown,  and  unex- 
pressed. 

Sauvadon,  the  uncle  from  Bercy,  whose  coarse,  irre- 
pressible vanity  suffered  from  seeing  his  teacher  in  this 
state,  came  to  visit  him  often.  Immediately  after  the 
catastrophe,  he  hastened  with  open  purse  to  ask  him,  as 
formerly,  for  "  ideas  about  things." 

"  Uncle,  I  have  none  now,"  Mdraut  answered,  discour- 
aged. And,  to  draw  him  from  his  apathy,  the  uncle 
would  talk  about  sending  him  south,  to  Nice,  to  share 
the  sumptuous  home  of  Colette  and  her  little  W. 


FIDES,  SPES.  345 

''It  would  not  cost  me  any  more,"  he  said  naively, 
"and  it  would  cure  you." 

But  Elys^e  did  not  expect  to  be  cured,  and  wished  to 
finish  his  book  in  the  place  where  it  germinated,  —  in  the 
noise  of  Parisian  streets,  —  where  every  one  can  listen  to 
the  sounds  he  likes  best.  While  he  wrote,  Sauvadon, 
seated  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  was  talking  incessantly 
about  his  pretty  niece,  feeling  irritated  against  the  old 
crazy-headed  general,  who  was  about  to  sell  his  hotel  in 
Isle  Saint  Louis. 

"  I  would  like  to  ask  you  what  he  can  do  with  all  that 
money  !  He  must  hide  it  away  in  holes,  in  little  piles. 
But,  after  all,  it's  his  affair.  Colette  is  rich  enough  to 
get  along  without  him." 

And  the  wine-merchant  tapped  himself  in  the  region 
of  the  watch-pocket,  where  his  figure  resembled  a  well- 
filled  money-bag. 

Another  time,  while  throwing  on  the  bed  the  papers 
he  brought  Elys^e,  he  said,  — 

"It  seems  they  are  bestirring  themselves  in  Illyria. 
They  have  just  sent  a  royalist  majority  to  the  diet  at 
Laybach.  Ah  !  if  there  had  been  a  man  there.  But 
that  little  Leopold  is  still  very  young,  and  Christian  is 
becoming  more  brutalized  every  day.  Now  he  keeps 
company  with  his  valet-de-chambre  in  visiting  inns  and 
low  places." 

Elys^e  shuddered  all  over  as  he  listened.  Poor  queen  ! 
Sauvadon  continued,  without  perceiving  the  pain  he 
caused  :  — 

"  Our  exiles  are  getting  on  finely.  There  is  the 
Prince  d'Axel  compromised  in  that  affair  in  the  Avenue 
d'Antin,  you  know,  —  the  Family  Hotel,  which,  with  its 
patriarchal  etiquette,  served  as  a  refuge  for  emancipated 


346  KINGS  TN  EXILE. 

minors.  What  a  scandal  for  a  prince,  an  heir  to  the 
crown  !  Yet  one  thing  astonishes  me  :  at  the  very  mo- 
ment this  story  about  the  Family  Hotel  was  going  the 
rounds,  Colette  wrote  me  that  his  Highness  was  at  Nice, 
and  that  she  was  present  at  the  regattas  in  a  yacht  which 
he  had  hired  for  her.  Certainly  there  must  be  some  mis- 
take. I  should  be  very  glad  of  it ;  for  between  us,  my 
dear  M^raut "  — 

Here  the  good  man  confided  to  his  friend  very  myste- 
riously, that  the  royal  prince  was  very  attentive  to 
Colette ;  and  as  she  was  not  a  woman  to  —  You  can 
think  —    There  might  be  before  long  "  — 

The  parvenu's  broad,  rough  face  lighted  with  a  smile. 

"Do  you  see  it?  Colette  the  Queen  of  Finland,  and 
Sauvadon  de  Bercy,  *  my  uncle,'  becoming  the  uncle  of 
the  king.     But  I  weary  you." 

"  Yes  :  I  wish  to  sleep,"  said  Elys^e,  who  had  closed  his 
eyes  a  moment,  —  a  polite  way  of  getting  rid  of  this  vain, 
talkative  old  man. 

When  the  uncle  had  gone,  he  picked  up  his  papers,  but 
was  not  able  to  write  a  line,  overcome  by  disinclination 
and  extreme  lassitude.  All  these  hideous  stories  sickened 
him.  On  looking  at  the  papers  scattered  over  his  bed, 
—  the  plea  for  royalty  in  which  he  had  consumed  the  little 
blood  that  was  left  him,  —  and  thinking  of  himself  in  this 
wretched  room,  an  old  gray-haired  student,  having  wasted 
so  much  strength  and  passion,  he  wondered  for  the  first 
time  if  he  had  not  been  a  dupe  all  his  life.  A  defender 
and  apostle  of  these  kings,  who,  degraded  by  pleasure, 
had  deserted  their  own  cause  !  And,  while  his  eyes 
wandered  sadly  over  the  bare  walls  on  which  the  sun- 
set fell  only  from  the  reflection  from  windows  opposite 
the  hotel,  he  beheld  in  its  dusty  frame  the  old  relic,  with 


FIDES,  SPES.  347 

a  red  seal,  "Fides,  Spes,"  which  he  look  from  his 
father's  bedside,  whose  handsome  Bourbon  face  at  o^ice 
rose  before  him,  as  when  he  saw  it  rigid  in  death,  and 
even  in  his  last  sleep  marked  by  his  sublime  trust  and 
fidelity ;  while  around  him  the  looms  were  motionless, 
and  the  crumbling  windmills  on  the  barren,  rocky  hill- 
side were  outlined  against  the  deep  blue  sky  of  the  south. 
It  was  a  brief  hallucination,  the  Enclos  de  Rey  and  all  his 
youth  floating  before  his  memory,  which  was  already 
fading. 

The  door  was  pardy  opened  of  a  sudden,  and  the  rus- 
tling of  a  dress  and  voices  were  heard.  M^raut  thinks  it 
is  a  neighbor  —  some  good  girl  from  the  Rialto  —  who  is 
bringing  a  cooling  drink  to  assuage  his  feverish  thirst. 
He  quickly  closed  his  eyes,  feigning  sleep  as  usual  when 
he  wished  to  send  away  importunate  visitors ;  but  little 
steps  hesitatingly  cross  the  cold,  tiled  floor,  and  a  sweet 
voice  murmurs,  "How  do  you  do.  Monsieur  Elys^e?" 
His  pupil  stands  before  him. .  He  has  grown  somewhat, 
but  is  timid,  and  looks  with  the  shy,  awkward  glance 
which  his  infirmity  has  made  habitual,  at  his  teacher,  who 
has  so  changed,  and  looks  so  pale  as  he  lies  there  in  his 
wretched  bed.  Yonder  a  veiled  lady  stands  proud  and 
erect  against  the  door.  She  has  come  here,  and  even 
mounted  these  five  stories ;  and  her  immaculate  dress  has 
brushed  by  the  doors  on  which  are  the  signs  "  Alice," 
"  Clemence."  She  did  not  wish  that  he  should  die  with- 
out seeing  his  little  Zara ;  and,  without  entering  herself, 
she  sends  her  pardon  by  the  little  hand  of  the  child,  and 
this  hand  Elysee  Meraut  takes  and  presses  to  his  lips. 
Then,  turning  to  the  august  figure  which  he  divined  was 
at  the  threshold,  he  said  for  the  last  time,  in  a  very  low 
voice,  with  his  last  breath,  struggling  for  life  and  speech, 
"  Long  live  the  king  !  " 

23 


34*  A'/JVGS  IN  EXILE. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

THE    EXTINCTION   OF   A   RACE. 

There  was  a  rough  game  this  morning  at  the  tennis- 
club.  Around  the  immense  field,  on  the  ground  which 
was  trodden  smooth  like  that  of  an  arena,  a  large  netting 
with  close  meshes  enclosed  six  players,  who  in  white 
jackets  and  shoes,  such  as  are  worn  in  armories,  were 
leaping  and  shouting,  and  waving  their  heavy  battledores. 
The  light  streaming  in  through  the  high  windows  above, 
as  in  a  hippodrome,  the  netting,  hoarse  shouts,  and  leap- 
ing, the  white  coats  thrown  back,  and  the  quiet  tones  of 
the  boys  in  the  hall  who  are  correcting,  —  all  of  whom 
are  English,  walking  with  regular  paces  around  the 
gallery,  —  would  make  one  fancy  himself  in  a  riding- 
school  during  a  rehearsal  of  gymnasts  and  clowns. 
Among  these  clowns  his  Highness  the  Prince  d'Axel, 
who  had  been  ordered  to  take  the  noble  exercise  of  ten- 
nis as  a  hygienic  remedy  for  his  coma,  might  be  consid- 
ered one  of  the  noisiest.  Having  arrived  the  evening 
before  from  Nice,  where  he  had  passed  a  month  at  the 
feet  of  Colette,  he  was  celebrating  his  return  to  Parisian 
life  by  this  game,  and  was  tossing  his  ball  with  a  "  Han  J  " 
like  a  butcher-boy,  and  throwing  out  his  arms  in  a  man- 
ner that  would  have  excited  admiration  in  an  abattoir, 
when  an  attendant  stepped  up  to  him  in  the  most  critical 
point  of  the  game,  and  informed  him  that  some  one  had 
come  to  see  him. 


THE  EXTINCTION  OF  A   RACE.  349 

"  Tut !  "  answered  the  heir-presumptive,  without  even 
turning  his  head. 

Tlic  servant  was  urgent,  and  uttered  a  name  in  his 
Highness's  ear  which  calmed  and  astonished  him. 

"  Very  well !  Pray  wait.  I  will  come  as  soon  as  the 
round  is  finished." 

He  entered  one  of  the  rooms  for  cold  baths  which 
extend  around  the  galler}',  furnished  with  bamboo,  and 
fancifully  hung  with  Japanese  matting,  and  found  his 
friend  Rigolo  sitting  on  a  lounge,  with  his  head  bowed 
down  on  his  breast. 

"  O  Prince  !  such  an  adventure  as  I  have  had  !  "  said 
the  ex-king  of  Illyria,  raising  a  disturbed  face. 

He  stopped,  as  a  boy  appeared  with  towels,  woollen 
gloves,  and  crash,  to  sponge  and  rub  his  Highness,  who 
was  smoking  and  steaming  like  a  Mecklenburger  who 
has  just  ascended  a  hill.  When  the  operation  was  over, 
Christian  continued,  with  pale,  trembling  lips  :  — 

"This  is  what  happened  to  me.  You  have  heard 
about  the  affair  of  the  Family  Hotel  /  " 

His  Highness  turned  his  dull  eyes  towards  him. 

"Caught?" 

The  king  nodded  affirmatively,  turning  away  his  pretty, 
restless  eyes.     Then,  after  a  short  pause,  he  said,  — 

"  Just  imagine  the  scene  !  The  police  coming  in 
the  middle  of  the  night ;  the  little  girl  weeping,  rolling 
about,  abusing  the  poUce,  and  clinging  to  my  knees. 
'Your  Majesty,  your  Majesty,  save  me  ! '  I  try  to  make 
her  hold  her  tongue ;  but  it's  too  late.  When  I  try  to 
give  some  name,  the  comniissaire  begins  to  laugh.  '  It 
is  useless  :  my  men  recognized  you,'  he  said.  'You  are 
the  Prince  d'Axel.'  " 

"That  is  very  fine  !  "  growled  the  prince,  with  his  head 
in  the  wash-basin.     "  And  then  "  — 


350  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

"  Upon  my  faith,  my  dear  fellow,  I  was  very  much 
taken  aback ;  and  there  are  other  reasons,  too,  that  I  will 
mention.  In  short,  I  let  the  man  think  that  I  was  you, 
being  perfectly  convinced  that  nothing  would  come  of  it. 
But,  no :  people  are  now  talking  of  the  affair ;  and,  as 
you  might  be  summoned  to  appear  before  the  examining 
magistrate,  I  have  come  to  beg  you  "  — 

"  To  go  to  prison  in  your  jilace  ?  " 

"  Oh,  matters  would  not  reach  that  point !  Only  the 
papers  will  speak  of  it,  and  names  will  be  given ;  and 
just  now,  with  what  is  preparing  in  Illyria,  —  the  royalist 
movement  and  our  approaching  restoration,  —  this  scan- 
dal would  have  the  most  disastrous  effect." 

The  unfortunate  Rigolo  wore  a  most  pitiful  look  while 
awaiting  the  decision  of  his  cousin  Axel,  who  stood 
silently  before  the  mirror,  brushing  back  his  few  yellow 
locks.     Finally  the  royal  prince  said,  — 

"  Then  you  think  the  papers  will  publish  it."  And  he 
suddenly  added,  in  his  weak,  sleepy  voice,  which  had  the 
far-away  sound  of  that  of  a  ventriloquist,  "  Chic,  ires  chic. 
It  will  enrage  my  uncle." 

He  was  dressed,  took  his  cane,  and  drew  his  hat  down 
over  one  ear,  saying,  "  Let  us  go  to  breakfast."  And 
arm  in  arm  they  went  away,  by  the  terrace  of  the  Feuil- 
lants,  till  they  reached  the  Tuileries,  where  Christian's 
phaeton  was  waiting  for  them.  They  both  got  in  and 
drew  up  their  furs,  for  it  was  a  bright,  cold  winter  day ; 
and  the  light  vehicle  flew  like  the  wind,  bearing  our  in- 
separables to  the  Caf6  de  Londres.  Rigolo  was  relieved 
and  exuberant,  and  Queue  de  Poule  was  less  sleepy  than 
usual,  being  excited  by  his  game  of  tennis  and  the  thought 
of  the  affair,  of  which  all  Paris  would  believe  him  the  hero. 
As  they  were  crossing  the  Place  Vendome,  which  was 


THE  EXTINCTION  OF  A   RACE.  351 

almost  deserted  at  this  hour,  a  young,  elegantly  dressed 
woman,  holding  a  child  by  the  hand,  stopped  on^  the 
edge  of  the  sidewalk  and  looked  at  the  nruTibers.  His 
Highness,  who  had  been  looking  down  from  his  seat  on 
all  the  pretty  faces  with  the  eagerness  of  a  boulevard 
promcnadcr  who  had  been  fasting  for  three  weeks,  per- 
ceived her,  and  started.  "  Look,  Christian  !  one  would 
say  "  —  But  Christian  did  not  hear  :  he  was  busy  watch- 
ing his  horse,  which  this  morning  was  excited,  like  his 
master ;  and,  when  they  turned  round  in  the  narrow 
vehicle  to  look  at  the  beautiful  pedestrian,  she  and  her 
child  had  just  entered  under  the  arch  of  one  of  the 
neighboring  houses  of  the  ministry  of  justice. 

She  walked  quickly,  with  her  veil  down,  and  had  a 
hesitating,  embarrassed  appearance,  as  for  a  first  rendez- 
vous ;  but,  though  her  dark  and  very  rich  dress  and 
mysterious  appearance  might  for  a  moment  make  this 
woman  suspected,  the  name  which  she  asked  of  the  por- 
ter, and  the  tone  of  deep  sadness  with  which  this  name, 
that  of  the  most  famous  in  the  profession  of  medicine, 
was  spoken  by  her,  was  a  strong  refutal  of  any  idea  that 
she  might  be  of  questionable  position. 

"  Is  Doctor  Bouchereau  in  ?  " 

"  On  the  first  floor,  —  the  door  opposite  you.  If  you 
have  not  a  card  with  a  number,  it  is  of  no  use  to  go  up." 

She  made  no  reply,  but  ran  up  the  stairs,  drawing  the 
child  after  her,  as  if  she  were  afraid  that  some  one  might 
call  her  back.  On  the  first  floor  they  told  her  the  same 
thing :  "  If  Madame  had  not  had  her  name  down  the 
evening  before  "  — 

"  I  will  wait,"  she  said. 

The  sen'ant,  saying  no  more,  escorted  her  through 
the  first  anteroom,  where  people  were  seated  on  wooden 


352  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

benches,  ami  Ihrougli  another  that  was  even  more  crowded  ; 
then  solemnly  opened  the  door  of  the  great  salon,  which, 
when  the  mother  and  child  had  entered,  he  immediately 
closed  with  an  air  which  seemed  to  say,  "You  wished 
to  wait,  —  wait,  then  !  " 

It  was  a  spacious  room,  and  very  high  studded,  hke  all 
those  in  the  first  story  in  the  Place  Vendome,  and  sump- 
tuously decorated  on  the  ceiling,  wood-work,  and  panels. 
The  furniture  of  garnet  velvet,  with  chairs  and  cushions 
worked  by  hand,  stood  far  apart,  and  was  incongruous 
and  provincial  in  form  :  the  drapery  and  portieres  were 
alike.  Beneath  the  chandelier,  in  the  style  of  Louis 
XVI.,  stood  a  small  table  in  that  of  the  lunpire.  The 
simple  clock  between  two  candelabra,  and  the  absence 
of  every  ol)ject  of  art,  revealed  the  modest  physician, 
a  worker,  who  had  unexpectedly  become  the  fashion, 
without  taking  pains  to  obtain  it.  He  was  as  much  the 
fashion  as  one  can  only  be  when  Paris  has  any  thing 
to  do  with  him.  His  fame  extended  throughout  the 
world,  from  the  top  to  the  bottom  of  society,  reach- 
ing the  provinces  and  abroad,  all  over  Europe ;  and 
that  within  ten  years,  without  decreasing,  and  with  the 
unanimous  approbation  of  the  profession,  who  confessed 
that  this  time  success  had  come  to  a  true  savant,  and 
not  to  a  quack  in  disguise.  What  gives  Bouchereau 
his  fame  and  extraordinary  popularity  is  not  so  much 
his  wonderful  manipulation  as  an  operator,  his  admir- 
able lessons  in  anatomy,  and  his  knowledge  of  the 
human  frame,  as  the  intelligence  and  insight  which 
guide  him,  and  which  are  clearer  and  more  solid  than 
the  steel  of  his  tools ;  while  he  has  the  genial  eye  of 
great  thinkers  and  poets,  which  acts  like  magic  with 
science,  and  sees  to  its  depths  and  beyond.     They  con- 


THE   EXTINCTION  OF  A   RACE.  353 

suit  him  as  a  jiythoness  with  bUnd,  unreasoning  faith. 
When  he  says,  "  It  is  nothing,"  the  lame  walk,  and  those 
given  up  to  die  are  cured :  hence  his  popularity,  which, 
creating  a  tyrannical  demand,  drives  him  around  in 
breathless  haste  ;  for  it  leaves  the  man  neither  time  to  live 
nor  to  breathe.  The  medical  head  of  a  great  hospital, 
he  makes  a  long  and  careful  round  of  visits  every  morn- 
ing, followed  by  attentive  students,  who  look  up  to  the 
teacher  as  to  a  god,  wait  upon  him,  and  hand  him  his 
instruments ;  for  llouchcrcau  has  no  case,  but  boirows 
the  instrument  he  needs  from  some  one  near  him, 
and  regularly  forgets  to  return  it.  He  makes  a  few 
visits  when  he  goes  out,  then  (luickly  returns  to  his 
office,  and,  often  without  taking  time  to  eat,  begins  his 
consultations,  which  are  prolonged  very  late  into  the 
evening.  On  this  day,  though  it  was  hardly  later  than 
noon,  the  salon  was  already  full  of  gloomy,  anxious  faces 
of  people  sitting  round  in  a  row,  or  grouped  near  the 
stand,  poring  over  books  and  illustrated  papers,  hardly 
turning  round  to  look  at  those  who  entered ;  each  being 
absorbed  in  himself  and  his  own  malady,  and  full  of 
anxiety  as  to  what  the  prophet  would  say.  The  atmos- 
phere seemed  gloomy  through  the  silence  of  these  in- 
valids, whose  features  were  sunken  and  seamed  with  pain, 
and  whose  dull  eyes  sometimes  brightened  with  an  un- 
pleasant light.  The  women  still  preserved  their  coquetry, 
some  concealing  their  suffering  with  a  mask  of  haughti- 
ness ;  while  the  men,  being  taken  from  their  work  and  the 
physical  activity  of  life,  seemed  more  overcome  and 
more  forlorn.  In  the  midst  of  this  selfish  distress,  the 
mother  and  her  little  child  formed  a  touching  group.  He 
was  very  delicate  and  pale,  with  expressionless  features 
and  dull  complexion,  and  but  one  living  eye;  and  she 


354  A'/A'GS  IN  F.XfLK. 

was  motionless  as  if  paralyzed  by  frighlful  anxiety.  Once, 
when  tired  of  waiting,  the  child  rose  to  go  and  look  at 
some  images  on  the  stand,  moving  awkwardly  and  timidly, 
like  one  that  is  infirm  ;  and  as  he  held  out  his  arm  he 
hit  an  invalid,  and  received  such  a  cross,  frowning  look, 
that  he  returned  to  his  place  emjjty-handed,  and  remained 
motionless,  with  his  head  on  one  side,  in  that  anxious 
attitude  of  a  bird  perched  on  a  branch  wliich  one  sees 
in  blind  children. 

There  is  a  true  suspension  of  life  in  this  waiting  at  the 
door  of  the  great  physician,  —  a  stupor  broken  only  by 
some  sigh  or  cough,  or  the  rustle  of  a  skirt  drawn  aside, 
a  stifled  complaint,  or  the  constant  ringing  of  the  bell 
announcing  a  new  patient.  Sometimes  the  latter,  open- 
ing the  iloor  and  seeing  the  room  filled,  quickly  closes 
it  again  in  horror ;  then,  after  a  colloquy  and  short  de- 
bate, he  returns  at  last,  resigned  to  wait,  for  at  Bouche- 
reau's  there  are  no  favors  granted.  He  only  makes  an 
exception  for  those  of  his  profession  from  Paris  or  from 
the  provinces  who  bring  him  a  patient :  they  alone  have 
a  right  to  pass  in  their  card,  and  be  introduced  before 
their  turn.  They  are  distinguished  by  a  familiar,  author- 
itative air,  walking  nervously  about  the  salon,  drawing 
out  their  watch,  astonished  to  see  that  it  is  past  noon, 
and  that  there  is  no  movement  yet  in  the  consulting- 
office.  People  of  every  description  still  pour  in,  from 
tlie  heavy,  obese  banker,  who  has  had  his  two  chairs  kept 
since  morning  by  his  servant,  to  the  little  clerk  who  says, 
"  Cost  what  it  will,  let  us  consult  Bouchereau."  There  is 
every  kind  of  toilet  and  style,  dress-hats  and  linen  caps, 
and  scant  black  dresses  by  the  side  of  brilliant  satins; 
but  equality  remains  in  eyes  reddened  by  tears,  and 
anxious  brows,  and  the  suspense  and  sadness  which  per- 
vade the  salon  of  a  great  consulting-physician  at  Paris. 


THE  EXTINCTION  OF  A   RACE.  355 

Among  the  last  comers  is  a  light-haired,  sunburnt 
peasant,  with  a  broad  face  and  shoulders,  accompanied 
by  a  little  sickly  creature,  supported  by  him  on  one  side 
and  by  a  crutch  on  the  other.  The  father  takes  touch- 
ing precautions,  bows,  under  his  new  blouse,  his  round 
shoulders  bent  by  labor,  and  separates  his  big  fingers  to 
seat  the  child. 

"Are  you  comfortable?  Sit  down  now.  A\^iit  till  I 
put  a  cushion  under  you." 

He  speaks  in  a  loud  voice,  without  embarrassment,  and 
disturbs  every  one  to  get  chairs  and  a  cricket.  The 
child,  who  is  made  timid  and  refined  by  suffering,  re- 
mains silent,  with  his  body  bent  over,  and  holds  his 
crutches  between  his  knees.  When  they  are  finally  set- 
tled, tlie  peasant  begins  to  laugh,  with  tears  in  his  eyes. 
"  //(•///  /  here  we  are  !  He  is  a  famous  man.  Come,  he 
will  cure  you  soon." 

Then  he  casts  a  smile  on  those  present,  —  a  smile 
which  meets  with  no  response  from  the  cold,  hard  faces. 
Only  the  lady  in  black,  accompanied  also  by  a  child, 
looks  at  him  kindly ;  and,  although  she  seems  a  little 
proud,  he  speaks  to  her,  and  tells  her  his  history.  His 
name  is  Raizou,  a  gardener  at  Valenton ;  his  wife  is 
almost  always  sick,  and  unfortunately  their  children  take 
more  after  her  than  himself,  who  is  so  brave  and  strong. 
The  three  oldest  sons  died  of  an  affection  of  the  bones. 
The  last  promised  to  grow  up  well,  but  for  some  months 
he  had  had  a  trouble  in  the  hip  like  the  others.  Then 
they  placed  a  mattress  on  the  seats  in  the  wagon,  and 
came  to  see  Bouchereau. 

He  said  all  this  in  a  deliberate  manner,  in  the  drawling 
tone  of  country-people  ;  and,  while  his  neighbor  listens  to 
him  sympathizingly,  the  two  little  invalids  examine  each 


356  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

(jlhcr  curiously,  drawn  together  by  the  malady  which  gives 
l)Oth  —  the  little  one  in  the  blouse  and  muffler,  and  the 
child  covered  with  furs  —  a  melancholy  resemblance. 

!5ut  there  is  a  brief  stir  in  the  room.  Pale  f:ices  flush; 
and  all  heads  turn  to  a  high  door,  behind  which  is  heard 
a  sound  of  steps,  and  seats  being  moved.  He  is  there ; 
he  has  just  arrived.  The  steps  come  nearer.  In  the 
opening  of  the  door,  which  is  suddenly  thrown  back, 
appears  a  man  of  medium  height,  thick-set,  with  square 
shoulders,  bald  forehead,  and  hard  features.  With  one 
look,  which  meets  the  anxious  gaze  of  all,  he  has  made 
the  tour  of  the  room,  and  examined  old  or  new  troubles. 
Some  one  passes  in,  and  the  folding-door  closes  behind 
him. 

"  It  does  not  look  favorable  for  us,"  said  Raizou  in  a 
low  voice ;  and,  to  assure  himself,  he  looks  at  all  the 
people  who  will  pass  in  before  him  for  a  consultation. 

There  was  a  large  crowd,  and  many  hours  to  wait, 
marked  by  the  slow,  loud  ticking  of  the  old  provincial 
clock  surmounted  by  a  Polymnia,  and  the  occasional  ap- 
pearance of  the  doctor.  Each  time  a  place  is  gained, 
there  is  a  movement,  a  little  life  in  the  saloji ;  then  all  be- 
comes dead  and  still  again. 

Since  she  has  entered,  the  mother  has  not  said  a  word, 
—  not  even  raised  her  veil ;  and  from  her  silence,  per- 
haps mental  prayer,  there  is  something  so  imposing  about 
her,  that  the  peasant  no  longer  dares  to  speak  to  her, 
and  he  also  remains  silent,  uttering  deep  sighs.  At  one 
moment  they  see  him  draw  from  his  pocket  —  from  a 
number  of  pockets  —  a  litUe  bottle,  a  goblet,  and  a  bis- 
cuit in  a  paper,  which  he  slowly  and  carefully  unwraps, 
to  dip  in  water  for  his  boy.  The  child  moistens  his 
lips,  then  pushes  away  the  glass  and  biscuit.     "  No,  no  ! 


THE  EXTINCTION  OF  A   RACE.  357 

I  am  not  hungry."  And  before  this  poor,  pinched,  weary 
face,  Raizou  thinks  of  his  three  older  boys,  who  also  wtre 
never  hungry.  His  eyes  fill,  and  his  cheeks  tremble  at 
the  thought ;  and  suddenly  he  says,  — 

"  Don't  stir,  dear :  I  am  going  down  to  see  if  the 
wagon  is  there  all  safe." 

This  is  one  of  many  times  that  he  has  gone  down  to 
see  if  the  wagon  is  standing  close  to  the  sidewalk  in  the 
place ;  and,  when  he  comes  up  smiling  and  talkative,  he 
fancies  they  do  not  see  his  red  eyes,  nor  purple  cheeks, 
which  are  so  from  having  been  rubbed  and  mopped  with 
his  big  fist  to  keep  back  the  tears. 

The  hours  pass  slowly  and  sadly.  In  the  salon,  which 
is  growing  dark,  faces  appear  paler  and  more  nervous, 
and  turn  supplicatingly  to  the  impassive  Bouchereau,  who 
makes  his  regular  appearance.  The  man  from  Valenton 
is  troubled  to  think  that  they  will  return  after  dark,  that 
his  wife  will  be  anxious,  and  the  little  one  be  cold.  His 
chagrin  is  so  great,  and  is  expressed  aloud  with  so  touch- 
ing a  naivete,  that  when,  after  five  mortal  hours,  the 
mother  and  child  see  their  turn  come,  they  yield  their 
place  to  the  worthy  Raizou. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  Madame  !  " 

He  has  not  time  to  be  embarrassing  in  his  demonstra- 
tions ;  for  the  door  has  just  opened,  and  he  quickly  takes 
his  child,  raises  him,  gives  him  his  crutch,  so  disturbed 
and  overcome  with  feeling  that  he  does  not  see  what  the 
lady  slips  into  the  poor  lame  child's  hand. 

"  For  yourself,  —  yourself,"  she  whispers. 

Oh,  how  long  the  mother  and  child  found  this  last 
waiting,  increased  by  the  night  coming  on,  and  the  dread 
which  chills  them  !  Finally  their  turn  arrives.  They  en- 
ter a  very  large  office,  long  and  narrow,  and  lighted  from 


358  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

a  high,  broad  window,  which  opens  on  the  place,  and 
admits  a  little  light  in  spite  of  the  late  hour. 

l^ouchereau's  table  stands  there  before  them,  and  is 
the  very  simple  desk  of  a  country  physician  or  a  re- 
corder. He  is  seated,  his  back  turned  to  the  light,  whic  h 
fiiUs  on  the  new-comers.  The  woman,  whose  veil  is 
raised,  shows  a  young,  energetic  face,  with  a  brilliant 
complexion,  and  eyes  weary  with  sad  watching  ;  and  the 
little  one  holds  down  his  head  as  if  the  daylight  in  his 
face  pained  him. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  him?"  said  Bouchereau 
kindly,  drawing  liim  to  himself  with  a  fotherly  move- 
ment ;  for  under  his  hard  face  was  concealed  an  exquisite 
sensibility,  which  forty  years'  practice  had  not  yet  dulled. 
The  mother,  before  answering,  motioned  to  the  child  to 
move  away.  Then  in  a  sweet,  grave  voice,  with  a  foreign 
accent,  she  relates,  that  last  year  her  son,  by  accident, 
lost  his  right  eye.  Now  there  was  trouble  in  the  left,  — 
a  mist  and  blur,  and  evident  loss  of  sight.  I'o  avoid 
complete  blindness,  they  advise  having  the  dead  eye 
extracted.  Is  it  possible  ?  is  the  child  in  a  condition  to 
endure  it? 

Bouchereau  listens  attentively,  leans  over  the  arm  of  his 
chair,  his  two  lively  little  Tourangeau  eyes  fixed  on  the 
scornful  mouth,  and  the  lips  that  are  red  with  i)ure  blood, 
and  which  range  has  never  touched.  Then,  when  the 
mother  has  done,  he  says,  — 

"The  operation  they  advise,  Madame,  is  performed 
every  day,  and  without  danger,  unless  in  exceptional 
cases.  Once  —  the  only  time  in  twenty  years  —  I  had  a 
poor  fellow  at  Lariboisiere,  who  could  not  endure  it. 
He  was  an  old  man,  it  is  true,  —  a  poor  ragpicker,  full  of 
alcohol,  and  badly  fed.     Here  the  case  is  not  the  same. 


THE  EXTINCTION  OF  A   RACE.  359 

Your  son  does  not  seem  strong ;  but  he  has  a  fine,  strong 
mamma.     We  will  see  about  it,  however." 

He  calls  the  child,  takes  him  between  his  knees,  and, 
to  divert  him  during  his  examination,  he  asks  with  a 
pleasant  smile,  — 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  Leopold,  sir." 

"  Leopold  what  ?  " 

The  child  looks  at  his  mother  without  answering. 

"  Well,  Leopold  !  you  must  take  off  your  jacket  and 
waistcoat ;  for  I  must  examine  and  listen  eveiywhere." 

The  child  undresses  slowly  and  awkwardly,  aided  by  his 
mother,  whose  hands  tremble,  and  the  good  Father  Bou- 
chereau,  who  is  more  skilful  than  either  of  them.  Oh  ! 
the  poor  little,  thin,  sicldy  body,  with  shoulders  drawn  in 
towards  the  narrow  chest^  like  the  wings  of  a  bird  folded 
before  flight,  and  the  f  :,sh  so  pale  that  the  scapulary  and 
medals  stand  out  in  the  dull  light  as  on  the  cast  of  an 
ex  voto! 

The  mother  hangs  down  her  head,  almost  ashamed  of 
her  work ;  while  the  physician  hstens  and  taps  him,  inter- 
rupting himself  to  ask  a  few  questions  :  — 

" The  father  is  old  :  is  he  not? " 

"  Why,  no,  sir  !  hardly  thirty  years." 

"Often  sick?" 

"  No  :  very  seldom." 

"  That  is  well.     Now,  dress  yourself,  my  little  man." 

He  sinks  back  in  his  large  arm-chair,  and  is  lost  in 
thought ;  while  the  child,  after  having  put  on  his  blue  vel- 
vet garment  and  his  furs,  takes  his  place  again  at  the  end 
of  the  room  without  being  told  to  do  so.  For  a  year  he 
has  been  so  accustomed  to  these  mysteries  and  whisper- 
ings about  his  malady,  that  he  no  longer  feels  uneasy,  and 


360  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

does  not  try  to  understand,  but  trusts  to  others.  With 
what  an  expression  of  anguish  the  mother  looks  at  the 
physician  ! 

"Well?" 

"  Madame,"  said  Bouchereau  in  a  low  voice,  weighing 
eacli  word,  "  your  child  is  indeed  threatened  with  loss  of 
sight ;  and  yet,  if  he  were  my  son,  I  would  not  operate 
upon  him.  Without  thoroughly  understanding  this  little 
nature,  I  find  strange  disorders.  The  whole  system  is 
shattered ;  and,  above  all,  tliere  is  the  most  vicious,  most 
exhausted,  and  poorest  blood." 

"The  blood  of  kings  !"  mutters  Fr(^'d6rique,  suddenly 
rising  from  a  rebellious  impulse  ;  for  before  her  memory 
arises  the  pale  face  of  her  first-born  in  her  little  coffin 
covered  with  roses.  Boucncieau,  who  has  also  risen, 
being  suddenly  enlightened  by  these  few  words,  recog- 
nizes the  Queen  of  Illyria,  whom  he  has  never  seen,  since 
she  goes  nowhere,  though  her  portraits  are  every- 
where. 

"  O  Madame  !  if  I  had  known  "  — 

"  Do  not  apologize,"  said  Fr^derique,  who  was  already 
calmer.  "  I  have  come  here  to  learn  the  truth,  that 
truth  which  kings  and  queens,  even  in  exile,  never  hear. 
Ah,  Monsieur  Bouchereau  !  how  unhappy  are  queens  ! 
And  to  think  they  have  all  been  persecuting  me  to  have 
this  operation  performed  on  my  child,  and  yet  they  knew 
that  it  would  cost  him  his  life  !  But  state  reasons  !  In  a 
month  or  fortnight,  or  perhaps  sooner,  the  Diet  of  Illyria 
will  send  for  us.  They  wish  to  have  a  king  to  show  them. 
Such  as  he  is,  he  would  do  ;  but  blind,  —  no  one  would 
want  him.  Then,  at  the  risk  of  killing  him,  they  would 
perform  this  operation.  Reign  or  die  !  And  I  was  going 
to  make  myself  an  accomplice  to  this  crime  !     Poor  little 


THE  EXTINCTION  OF  A   RACE.  361 

Zara  !  What  matters  it  whether  he  reign,  my  God  ?  Let 
him  live,  let  him  Uve  !  " 

It  is  five  o'clock,  and  nightfall.  In  the  Rue  de  Rivoli, 
which  is  filled  by  people  returning  fi-om  the  bois  on  their 
way  home  to  dinner,  the  carriages  passing  slowly  by  the 
Tuileries  are  striped  with  long  bars  fi-om  the  reflection  of 
the  fence  on  which  linger  the  last  rays  of  the  fading  sun- 
set. The  whole  of  one  side  of  the  Arc  de  Triomphe  is  still 
bathed  with  reflections  of  rosy  light,  streaming  athwart 
the  sky  like  the  aurora  borealis ;  while  that  opposite  is 
already  of  sad  violet,  of  sombre  hue  where  the  shadows 
are  densest  on  the  edges.  The  heavy  carriage  with  the 
Illyrian  arms  rolls  past.  At  the  turn  of  the  Rue  de  Cas- 
tiglione,  the  queen  suddenly  arrives  at  the  balcony  of  the 
Hotel  des  Pyramides.  There,  rising  before  her,  are  the 
illusions  of  her  arrival  at  Paris,  light  and  joyful  as  the 
music  from  the  brass  band  which  echoed  through  the 
mass  of  foHage  on  that  day.  How  many  disappoint- 
ments and  struggles  since  then  !  Now  it  is  over.  The 
race  is  extinct.  A  chill  like  death  falls  on  her  shoulders, 
while  the  landau  advances  into  the  shadow,  still  farther 
into  the  shadow. 

And  she  does  not  see  the  tender,  timid,  imploring  look 
which  the  child  turns  towards  her. 

"  Mamma,  if  I  am  no  longer  a  king,  will  you  love  me 
just  the  same  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my  darling  !  " 

She  presses  the  little  hand  held  out  to  her  with  pas- 
sionate warmth.  Well,  the  sacrifice  is  made  !  With  a 
heart  warmed  and  comforted  by  this  clasp,  Frederique  is 
no  longer  the  ambitious  queen,  only  a  mother ;  and  when 
the  Tuileries,  whose  solid  ruins  are  gilded  with  a  last,  fad- 
ing sunbeam,  rise  suddenly  before  her,  as  she  gazes  at 


362  KINGS  IN  EXILE. 

them,  ihcy  awaken  neither  memory  nor  emotion.  They 
seem  to  her  like  some  ancient  ruin  of  Assyria  or  Egypt, 
—  a  witness  of  an  extinct  civilization  and  people,  a  grand 
thing  of  the  past  —  dead. 


uc 


SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBR'iRj,  ^ (^S 


AA    000  932  423    7 


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